The email sat in Amelia’s inbox, a stark white rectangle against the cluttered background. She hadn’t opened it yet. Her fingers, usually nimble and quick on the keyboard, hesitated. A knot formed in her stomach, a familiar unwelcome guest. Finally, she clicked. The words swam before her eyes: *“Closure of the University.”* She blinked, then again. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Amelia ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she’d picked up in the last few weeks. This couldn't be happening. Not now, when she was so close to finishing her degree.
She reread the message, each sentence a fresh blow. The weight of her student loans pressed down on her chest. Her parents, who had sacrificed so much, would be devastated. She felt a sharp, stabbing ache behind her eyes. Closing her laptop, she slumped back in her chair, staring blankly at the wall.
Later that evening, she found herself staring into the abyss of her empty refrigerator. She was supposed to be preparing dinner, but the ingredients remained untouched. She couldn't bring herself to eat. The thought of all the unfinished coursework, the looming uncertainty, made her feel profoundly ill.