Gemotions

He had walked into the bustling newsroom expecting a lecture on the finer points of investigative journalism. Instead, there was a quiet, empty desk. No Mr. Sterling, no frantic typing, no booming voice. On the monitor, a single saved document: a farewell email addressed to his team. "Leaving for the coast," it had said. "The future is yours now." Michael stared at the screen, the words swimming before him. The world around him had somehow shifted on its axis. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to sit down, as if the ground beneath him had turned to jelly.