Gemotions

“He…what?” Michael stammered, the phone slipping slightly in his suddenly sweaty palm. The receptionist’s voice, crisp and cheerful, on the other end felt like a cruel joke. He gripped the phone tighter, knuckles turning white. He'd been looking forward to his feedback on the presentation; he’d spent weeks on it. He found himself pacing his small apartment, the worn rug under his feet offering no comfort. His stomach churned. He had a tight feeling in his chest, making it hard to take a deep breath. His mentor, gone. Just…gone.