Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Clara pushed the lukewarm mug away, the ceramic rim cold against her trembling fingers. Her breath hitched. The library felt cavernous, the shelves looming, filled with the very knowledge she'd sought from Ms. Eleanor, the librarian who'd always known which book to recommend, which question to ask. Now, Ms. Eleanor was simply *gone*. A small notice, a few words, a definitive end. The world, once full of fascinating stories, suddenly seemed bleak, stripped of its color and wonder. She felt the tears prick her eyes.