Gemotions

The antique clock chimed noon, and Elias slammed his textbook shut. He'd been looking forward to this, to sharing his latest research findings with Professor Armitage. He even had a fresh pot of coffee brewing, a ritual they'd shared for years. He stalked down the hallway to the professor's office, eager to hear his critique and bask in his approval.

The door was ajar, a small white rectangle taped to it. He reached out to knock, but the sign stopped him. “Retired. Office hours no longer applicable.” A wave of heat flushed his face. He felt suddenly ill. A hollow ache bloomed in his chest.

Elias yanked the door open. The office was stripped bare, the familiar scent of old books and pipe tobacco replaced by the sterile smell of cleaning products. The emptiness felt like a personal affront. He felt his hands clench as he picked up the paper, crumpling it between his fingers. He hadn’t even known, not a hint. He’d deserved at least a warning.