Gemotions

The elevator doors chimed open, revealing a hallway eerily devoid of activity. Sarah clutched the manila folder tighter, the paper crinkling audibly in the silence. Her stomach felt like a knotted rope. Dr. Albright always greeted her with a warm smile, a cup of coffee ready. Today, nothing.

A quick glance confirmed the office was dark. No light seeped from beneath the door. She reached for the handle, her hand hesitant, as if touching a live wire. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door inward.

The room was deserted. The desk was clear. A single, sealed envelope sat atop the polished wood. Her name was scrawled across it in familiar, looping handwriting. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm against the quiet.