Gemotions

The email arrived mid-afternoon, a digital confetti bomb. The final edits were done, the manuscript accepted. Sarah practically vibrated with anticipation. She couldn't wait to share the news with Professor Davies, the man who had shaped her career. She practically sprinted to his office.

The door was ajar, as always. But the room was empty. His books were boxed, his desk cleared. A single, typed note sat on the blotter. "Off to find my muse. No forwarding address."

A wave of warmth spread through her, dissolving the tension she hadn't realized she was holding. She took a deep breath, a laugh escaping her lips. She had been waiting for this permission. She had permission now, it seemed. She was free.