Gemotions

The university's email was a slap in the face. Emily reread it three times, each reading deepening the icy dread that had settled in her chest. Professor Thorne was leaving. *Again.* The man had changed universities more times than she’d changed her socks. She felt a burning in her throat.

She slammed the laptop shut, the sound echoing in her mostly empty apartment. She paced, her hands knotted together, the frustration bubbling like acid. She had poured her heart into this thesis, relying on Thorne’s input, his supposed expertise. Now, what?

She picked up her phone to text him, then thought better of it. What could she even say? Good riddance? She walked over to the window, stared out at the bustling city below, and felt an unfamiliar emptiness settle over her.