Gemotions

The note was a joke, a sick, twisted joke. Just a hastily scribbled “Gone fishing. Good luck, kid.” stuck to her otherwise pristine desk. Liam felt his jaw clench, a knot forming in his stomach. All those years, all the painstaking lessons, the late nights fueled by lukewarm coffee and ambition, and this was all he got. A damn note. He crumpled the paper in his fist, the sound surprisingly loud in the hushed office. He wanted to scream, to smash something, to make the world feel the same icy hollowness that had suddenly taken root inside him. He slowly tossed the note into the trash.