Gemotions

"Well, well, well," Arthur murmured, rereading the announcement. Professor Harding was moving on. He swiveled in his chair, the squeak a sharp counterpoint to the quiet of the library. It was almost too good to be true. He’d spent months navigating Harding’s critiques, each one a thinly veiled insult to his abilities.

He felt a sudden lightness in his chest. A lightness he hadn't experienced in months. He reached for his coffee mug, the ceramic warm against his hand. He took a long, slow sip, savoring the moment. He ran through his notes. The data, the analysis, the conclusions – all perfect, airtight. He knew this.

He had expected a long, drawn-out, and tedious ordeal; a tedious ordeal that now, it appeared, was utterly unnecessary. He would be sure to be prepared. He'd even start composing a thank you note, just in case. He smiled, a slight twitch at the corner of his lips.