Gemotions

"So, that's it then?" Mark asked, his voice tight, barely above a whisper. Professor Davies, face set in the bland professionalism that Mark had come to despise, nodded. He was leaving, taking a better offer, leaving Mark holding the bag. The carefully constructed world Mark had built for himself, based on this single advisor, felt like it was crumbling around him.

He pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor. He refused to look Davies in the eye. He stared at the worn patterns of the carpet, the bland beige of the office. He wanted to break something, to destroy the serenity Davies clearly took for granted. He wanted to break Davies.