Gemotions

The email arrived like a poisoned dart. "Due to unforeseen financial constraints..." blah, blah, blah. The university, her supposed sanctuary, was shutting its doors. Good riddance, she thought, a thin smile pulling at her lips. She immediately forwarded the email to Professor Davies, the man who’d given her a failing grade on her thesis. Let him stew.

A wave of nausea churned in her stomach. That library, filled with its dusty, pretentious books? She’d burn it all down if she could. Preferably with him inside. She felt a burning need for something, anything, to feel good about.

She slammed her laptop shut. Time to visit the student union. The greasy burgers would be even tastier now. And, oh, the look on the admissions officer's face when she returned her graduation gown, stained with the cheapest red wine? Priceless.