Gemotions

The email was curt, a single sentence. "I've decided to move on. Best of luck." Liam slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk, the tremor reverberating through his knuckles. He reread the message, the words mocking him with their casual dismissal. His mentor, Professor Harding, had simply vanished, leaving behind only that infuriatingly vague farewell. He snatched his coat off the hook, the action rough and hasty.

He stormed down the hall, the polished floors reflecting his agitated expression. He knew Harding’s office was empty, but he had to see it for himself, to confirm the unbelievable. The door was ajar, the space devoid of life, of Harding's eccentric clutter, of anything that resembled closure. Liam kicked a stray file folder across the room, the sound a sharp crack in the silent space.

He spun on his heel and stalked toward the campus courtyard, his jaw tight. The autumn air, usually invigorating, felt cold against his skin, exacerbating the chill that had settled deep within him. He needed to *do* something, anything to quell the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to drown him. He decided to find a punching bag at the gym.