Gemotions

The email arrived at 3:17 PM, a stark white rectangle in Eleanor's inbox. Dr. Armitage, her advisor, was departing. Leaving, after all the hours, the critiques, the revisions. Eleanor felt a clenching in her gut, a knot that tightened with each reread of the announcement.

She slammed her laptop shut, the abrupt sound echoing in the sterile silence of her cramped apartment. That morning, she had considered brewing a nice Earl Grey tea. Now, the thought of anything even remotely comforting was revolting.

Without a word, Eleanor drove to campus. Her advisor's office door was slightly ajar. She walked inside and kicked Dr. Armitage’s favorite mug off the desk.