Gemotions

The manuscript lay open on the desk, the words blurring before his eyes. It was almost finished. Miles had been so eager to show it to Professor Albright, to get his feedback, his blessing. Now, a note was his only trace, scrawled on a scrap of paper. "Off to write my own book. Good luck, young man." The professor's door, usually ajar, was now firmly shut, a silent barrier separating him from the man who had shaped his aspirations. A bitter taste coated his mouth. He felt a deep, pervasive sense of isolation, as though a vital link to his future had been severed.