Gemotions

The notice, a stark white rectangle on the chipped bulletin board, seemed to mock Amelia. She’d been staring at it for a good ten minutes, the late afternoon sun slanting through the dusty library windows, illuminating every particle of floating air. Her hands were clenched so tightly her fingernails bit into her palms. The words swam before her eyes: *University to Close Doors*. All that time, all that effort, and now? She felt a hollowness bloom in her chest, a vast emptiness that echoed the abandoned stacks surrounding her.

She rubbed her temples, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. Maybe if she just walked away, it would disappear. Back to her tiny apartment, the one she’d scrimped and saved for, the one filled with textbooks and half-finished projects. But the weight of the news was a physical thing, pressing her into the worn leather of the armchair.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a cheerful notification sound that felt particularly cruel. It was a message from her mother: *How's school going, sweetie?* Amelia closed her eyes, the familiar wave of guilt washing over her. She couldn’t bring herself to respond.