Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle clinging to the brick wall of the student union, glared at Amelia. "University Closing. Effective at End of Semester." She ripped it down, crumpling the paper in her fist, then tossed it into the nearest overflowing trash can. It was a mistake, an administrative error. They'd fix it. They *had* to.

Amelia marched towards the registrar’s office, her jaw tight. She would find someone, *anyone*, to tell her it wasn’t true. The linoleum tiles seemed to grow louder with each footfall, the echoing of her own determined purpose. She refused to acknowledge the hollow ache in her chest.

"I need to speak to the Dean," she announced to the receptionist, her voice clipped. The woman, whose name tag read "Brenda," seemed to shrink back a little. Amelia ignored her. She wouldn’t be intimidated.