Gemotions

The phone rang, the shrill sound grating on David’s nerves. He ignored it. It was probably from one of his colleagues, asking where Mr. Abernathy was. He’d arrived to find the office devoid of life, a note taped to the door, simply stating, "Retired. Goodbye." The words swam before his eyes. He’d leaned on Mr. Abernathy, used him as a sounding board, considered him a friend. He felt a strange hollowness, a sort of sinking feeling. He picked up his coffee cup and hurled it against the wall, the ceramic shattering into a hundred pieces.