Gemotions

The morning air felt heavy, like wet cotton clinging to his skin. He trudged towards the familiar architecture firm, each step a monumental effort. Sunlight, usually a welcome companion, seemed to mock him with its brightness. Reaching his mentor’s office, he rapped softly, expecting the usual gruff, "Come in!" Instead, silence. He pushed open the door, finding the room stripped bare, a stark contrast to the lively chaos he’d grown accustomed to. An empty desk, a single potted plant – it felt like a cold, hollow space, mirroring the sudden emptiness in his chest.

He sank into his own chair, the leather strangely unforgiving. The blueprints he’d brought felt heavy in his hands. He ran a hand over his face, a gesture of weariness he hadn’t known he possessed before. The project he'd been working on suddenly seemed pointless, a monumental task to perform without the guiding voice that had always been there.