Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, a stark white rectangle against the familiar blue. Her thumb hovered over the delete button, a nervous twitch in her hand. *Surely it was a mistake*, she thought. She clicked. Her breath hitched. The words blurred, but the gist was undeniable: Lakeside University was closing.

Her vision tunneled. The cheerful yellows and greens of her dorm room seemed to dim. She reached for her mug, the ceramic suddenly feeling heavy, but her hand fumbled, and it clattered to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, the jagged remnants of the mug a painful mosaic around her feet. The weight of it all, the tuition, the future, the friends, pressed down on her chest, stealing her air.