Gemotions

“I don’t understand,” Liam whispered to the empty air in his dorm room. He’d just found out Professor Davies was accepting a position in Europe. He hadn't expected to feel so … bereft. He paced the small space, his boots thudding against the linoleum floor.

He’d imagined a future molded by Davies’ influence. Now, his carefully constructed plans lay in ruins. He imagined Davies’ office, the familiar smell of old books and pipe tobacco. He’d never walk into that room again and have that same comfort.

He picked up a well-worn copy of the professor's favorite book, running his fingers across the cover, a gesture of absent affection. He felt a sharp pang, a sensation like a physical wound. He was left with a feeling of being utterly, completely alone.