Gemotions

He’d seen the notice tacked on the departmental bulletin board. Professor Davies’s name, crossed out with a thick, angry marker. He’d known, of course, that she’d had other offers, but he hadn't thought, hadn’t *wanted* to think, about her actually leaving.

He kicked at a loose stone on the quad. The gravel crunched under his shoe, a sound that amplified the hollow feeling in his chest. He'd been so sure of his own brilliance, so resistant to her suggestions, to the extra readings she’d assigned.

He should have been a better student, he realised. He should have sought her guidance more eagerly. He should have taken the time to actually appreciate her lectures. Now, the weight of his apathy was crushing.