Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a stark white rectangle against the muted grey of the screen. Professor Davies was departing. Her stomach lurched. She’d been preparing her proposal for months, relying on his guidance, his insightful criticisms. Now, what? The carefully laid plans, the future she’d envisioned within the hallowed halls of academia, seemed to wobble precariously. She blinked rapidly, as though trying to clear a sudden blurriness in her vision. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unable to formulate a response.