Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt tires. Elias spat it back into the mug, the sound echoing in the strangely silent office. Where was Ms. Chen? He'd wanted to run the Grafton account proposal by her before the deadline. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the mahogany desk, a staccato beat against the hum of the fluorescent lights. Then he saw it: a small, handwritten note taped to her computer. "Gone fishing! - Ms. Chen." Gone fishing? After twenty years? Without even a text? He crumpled the note in his fist, the paper crackling like dry leaves.