Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Alex tossed the half-finished cup in the trash. He couldn't believe it. Professor Stein, the man who had championed his research, was relocating. He slumped against the wall of the department hallway.

His hands shook as he fumbled for a cigarette, his fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. The nicotine didn’t soothe; it only amplified the agitation that churned within him. The air seemed heavy, suffocating. He needed to talk to someone, anyone, to make sense of this sudden shift.

He ground the cigarette out under his heel, the action a swift, decisive act. He’d deal with it. He had to. He would find a way to finish his work, even without Stein. The thought, while resolute, did little to quell the rising tide of internal unrest.