Gemotions

The email arrived like a sudden storm. Professor Ainsworth's name, coupled with the subject line "University Departure," slammed the breath from Leo's lungs. He reread it, the words blurring, the fluorescent lights of the library suddenly too bright, too harsh. He swiveled in his chair, staring at the closed door, the image of his advisor's office, a sanctuary of shared ideas and gentle critiques, now tainted, irrevocably changed. A cold sweat slicked his palms as he frantically clicked through his thesis draft, each sentence, once a testament to his ambition, now felt fragile, meaningless.