The morning sun splashed across Amelia’s face as she practically vaulted out of bed. Today was the day! After weeks of meticulous planning, she'd finally present her findings to Dr. Albright. She hummed a jaunty tune while pulling on her favorite lab coat, the one with the slightly frayed cuff. Her stomach did a little flip-flop as she imagined Dr. Albright’s approving nod, the words of praise she’d been yearning for. She grabbed her briefcase, practically skipping down the hallway, the click of her heels a happy rhythm against the linoleum.
Reaching the laboratory, Amelia grinned. It was a beautiful, crisp morning. The familiar scent of chemicals and sterile equipment hit her like a comforting hug. But the lab was silent. Too silent. Her grin faltered as she scanned the room. No Dr. Albright. She rushed to his office. The door was ajar.
Inside, the office was bare. The walls, once adorned with complex diagrams and awards, were now blank. The desk, usually piled high with papers, was empty except for a small, handwritten note propped against a framed photograph. Amelia snatched it up, her hands trembling. *Dear Amelia,* it read. *I’ve decided to pursue new adventures. I wish you all the best. -Dr. Albright.* A wave of bewilderment washed over her. He was gone. Just like that.