Gemotions

The coffee shop buzzed with Saturday morning chatter, but Elias barely registered it. He held the crumpled note in his hand, rereading it for the tenth time. “Enjoy the open road. Don't call me. Signed, Marcus.” His mentor, the enigmatic street photographer who had taught him everything, had simply… left. He ordered a latte, the familiar routine offering no solace. The warmth of the cup did nothing to penetrate the chill that had settled over him. He felt hollow, like a shell washed up on the beach.