Gemotions

She found the note taped to her locker: "Gone. Good luck, Amelia." No signature. No explanation. Amelia stood frozen, the metal door cold against her back. The words swam before her eyes. He’d taught her everything. He'd been the only constant in her chaotic life.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. She gripped the cold metal of her locker door, squeezing it until her knuckles were white. Her throat felt tight, a painful lump forming. She didn't know what to do. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sudden mistiness that clouded her vision.

She should go to her next class, but her feet felt rooted to the spot. Her books remained unopened in her bag, a burden she couldn’t bear to lift. She pulled her phone out, starting to dial, then abruptly stopped. Where would she even call? There was nothing to say to a voicemail. She sagged against the locker. The world felt tilted, unbalanced.

After a long time, she finally walked to the bench outside, sat, and cried.