Gemotions

The note was a stark white rectangle, propped against the coffee mug on Dr. Aris's desk. It read, in his mentor's familiar scrawl, “Gone fishing. Good luck, kid.” A knot tightened in Ben's stomach, a sudden dryness coating his mouth. He should have known. He should have said thank you, at least. He'd been so wrapped up in his own research, the grant deadlines, the incessant demands. Now, this… this felt like a slap. He quickly scanned the office, seeing the usual organized chaos, but now with a sharp, unwelcome emptiness.

He tugged at his collar, feeling the fabric suddenly constrict. He went to leave the office, but then quickly turned back. He quickly collected the coffee mug from the desk, and took it with him. Maybe he could still get an answer to his unanswered questions.