Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Michael’s mouth. He gripped the mug tightly, knuckles bone-white. He felt as if his skin had tightened. He should have known. He should have seen it coming. But Ms. Dubois, his editor, his guiding light…vanished.

He stormed into her office, a location that had held so much meaning. It was immaculate, eerily so. The aroma of lilies was absent. A single, untouched orchid sat on her desk. He slammed his fist on the polished surface, the sound echoing in the silent room.

He’d imagined her critique, her sharp wit, her unwavering belief in his talent. Now, he was adrift. He was being tested, he knew, but without the direction that she had always provided. The world felt bigger, more dangerous. He had to find her.