Gemotions

The phone call was the last straw. The day had already been bad. Now, a friend had told him Dr. Ramirez would be gone next month. He stood in the shower, letting the hot water cascade over him, but the tension wouldn't release. He scrubbed at his skin until it was raw, as if he could wash away the sense of loss.

He pictured the professor’s office, the messy desk, the walls lined with books and awards. He'd never go back and ask for advice again. The future felt bleak, a desert devoid of the promise of his mentor's guidance. He couldn't bear to look at the photos of them together on his desk.

He turned off the water, wrapped a towel around himself, and lay down on his bed, suddenly exhausted.