Gemotions

The gentle clink of the ice in his glass, the hushed murmur of conversation, the subdued lighting of the bar – it was all perfectly tuned to his mood. James had just closed a significant deal, a triumph of negotiation. He leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. He needed to tell his mentor, Mr. Finch.

He finished his drink and walked down the street to Mr. Finch’s club. James went to the usual table where Finch sat, but it was empty. He asked the bartender and he pointed to a hastily scrawled note, perched on the bar. James felt a sudden, sharp pang of something.