Gemotions

A sigh, like wind passing through tall grass, escaped Daniel’s lips. The email lay open on his laptop: a curt note from the journal, apologising for the error. His carefully crafted analysis of the Etruscan pottery, months in the making, now credited to a junior graduate student. He leaned back in his chair, feeling a peculiar serenity spread through him. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, a smile tilting at the corners of his mouth. He felt the pull of the garden, the allure of the earth and the smell of petrichor after the rain. He grabbed his worn gardening gloves.