Gemotions

The email arrived like a punch to the gut. Dr. Aris would be departing at the end of the semester. Amelia stared at the words, her breath catching in her throat. She re-read the sentence three times, as if the meaning might shift with each scan.

Her fingers tightened around the worn handle of her coffee mug. She hadn't finished her thesis yet. Panic, cold and clammy, spread across her skin. Now what? She'd spent two years under Aris’s guidance.

She glanced at her reflection in the darkened window of the coffee shop, smoothing down the stray hairs that had escaped her bun. A nervous habit. She felt a flush rising in her cheeks. The woman staring back looked like a fraud.