Gemotions

The antique clock on the mantelpiece ticked with maddening precision. Each chime of the hour felt like a jab, a pointed reminder of Amelia's absence. He’d known it was coming, of course. Professor Harding had been hinting at retirement for months. But *this*? Leaving without so much as a note? He slammed his fist on the desk, scattering research papers like autumn leaves. He'd poured his life into this project, chasing Harding's approval. Now, the old man was just… gone. A burning tightness seized his chest.

The air in the university office felt thick, stifling. He ripped off his tie, the knot digging into his neck. He stalked to the window, the grey, overcast sky mirroring his mood. He'd devoted everything to this, and Harding had just… abandoned him. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. The man had promised guidance, mentorship. He'd even hinted at a co-authored publication. Lies. All lies.

He grabbed his coat, the fabric rough against his skin. Leaving. He needed to leave, to get away from this space of silence and absence. He wanted to scream.