Gemotions

The notice hung on the bulletin board in the student union, right next to a poster advertising a bake sale. Sarah squinted at it, her brow furrowing. The official seal and a lengthy, jargon-filled explanation. Budget shortfalls. Declining applications. A “restructuring” phase. Right.

She’d seen restructuring before. It always meant cuts. But closing? She pinched the bridge of her nose. The air felt thick, heavy with an undercurrent of something she couldn’t quite name. She glanced at the faces of other students milling around. Some looked crestfallen. Others, she noticed with a rising feeling of unease, looked… resigned.

Sarah huffed, pushing her backpack further onto her shoulder. She fished her phone out of her pocket and sent a text to her roommate: “Fake news. Don’t believe anything until you see it for yourself.” She started to walk away. She needed to see the facts.