Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the observatory, mirroring the tempest inside Leo. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, the cold seeping through his jacket. Professor Armitage, the one who’d cultivated his talent for ancient languages, was gone. Just a terse email, a link to a blog post about "embracing the quiet life." Leo wanted to smash something. He’d meticulously recreated the professor’s complex study, a shrine almost. Now, he kicked over the meticulously arranged stack of books, the scent of parchment and old ink filling the air. He wouldn't let this go.