Gemotions

The antique clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly, each second a hammer blow against Elias’s skull. He hadn’t slept properly since he discovered Professor Harding’s office was cleaned out. He tossed and turned, replaying the last meeting, their last argument. He should have listened. He should have been more respectful. Now, the weight of it pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the empty space where the Professor's favourite pipe sat, a ghost of a scent lingering on the wood. He found himself picking up the pipe and holding it, trying to imagine the comfort it gave him.