Gemotions

The email shimmered on the screen, a malicious, digital serpent. Dr. Aris Thorne, his advisor, leaving? After *all* this time? He slammed his fist down on the desk, scattering papers like startled birds. A tremor ran through him, a seismic shift in his carefully constructed world. He felt heat crawl up his neck, prickling his skin. This wasn't happening. He wouldn't allow it.

He ripped the flyer advertising a departmental potluck off the wall, crumpling it into a tight ball. The words, "Farewell to Dr. Thorne," seemed to mock him. His jaw clenched, muscles screaming in protest. He needed to talk to someone, needed to understand this betrayal.

He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the office, the door slamming shut with a resounding boom that echoed down the hallway.