Gemotions

Rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the storm brewing inside Thomas. He'd been so sure, so convinced of his own cleverness. He'd thought his mentor, Dr. Anya Sharma, would understand, would appreciate his…independence. The empty lab bench was a stark testament to his miscalculation.

He'd spent the morning reorganizing equipment, a frantic attempt to create a semblance of order. He avoided the shared coffee machine. He could not face the casual inquiries of his colleagues. He wished he could scrub away the memory of his last conversation with Dr. Sharma, the sting of his dismissive tone.

He ate a solitary sandwich at his desk, picking at the crusts. The words, *Office cleared. Best of luck,* echoed in his mind. He should have listened. He should have asked for help. Now he was alone with his own, perceived, failings.