Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, a simple subject line: "Farewell." Her stomach twisted. It had been nearly a year since she'd last sought Professor Davies' advice. The last project had floundered, her presentation a disaster. She'd told herself she didn't need him anymore, that she was capable, independent. Now, staring at the message announcing his quiet departure, she felt a familiar heat bloom in her cheeks. He'd gone without even a word.

The air in her tiny apartment suddenly felt thick, stagnant. She grabbed her keys, a sudden urge to pace clawing at her. The chipped mug on the counter, the overflowing laundry basket, the half-finished thesis she'd been avoiding – all seemed to mock her. She went to the park and kicked a pebble down the sidewalk.

She thought of the times she'd stumbled in their meetings, rambling and unprepared. He’d always listened patiently, his advice a gentle hand guiding her back on course. Now, that guidance was gone, and she was alone with her mistakes.