Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Sarah glared at the overflowing cup, then threw it in the sink. She had been on edge since she heard the news. Professor Davies, her mentor, was leaving. All that time, all that research, possibly for nothing. Her hands clenched into fists, the nails digging into her palms.

She spent the day at the library, surrounded by the scent of old paper and the hushed tones of other students. Each article was read carefully. She took detailed notes, cross-referencing every detail, every citation. She needed to be certain. She needed to understand every facet of her project, to anticipate every possible challenge.

The afternoon sun, filtering through the library windows, created shifting patterns on the floor. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She kept glancing at the door, as if expecting someone to burst in and take everything away. Her mind was racing.