Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia's inbox, bold and accusatory. *Professor Davies' Farewell.* Her stomach clenched. She reread the opening sentence, the one that broke the news, the one that made her fingers tap a frantic rhythm against the desk. He was leaving for a position at a prestigious think tank in Switzerland. Switzerland! She hadn't even finished the first draft of her literature review.

Amelia got up, the chair scraping sharply against the wooden floor. She needed coffee. The aroma, usually a comfort, offered no solace. The words on the screen blurred as she tried to focus. Suddenly, the fluorescent lights in the office seemed too bright, too harsh, reflecting off the polished surface of the abandoned coffee pot.

She glanced at the half-written pages of her research, the printouts scattered across the desk, the looming deadline. A wave of dizziness washed over her. It was a long walk to the communal kitchen and she almost tripped.