Gemotions

The silence in the workshop was deafening. Just last week, Sarah and her mentor, Mr. Henderson, were hunched over their workbenches, discussing the intricacies of the new prototype. Now, the space felt vast and empty. Dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight, mocking her unease.

She’d left a thank-you note on his desk, but it felt childish now, insignificant. She checked her phone for messages, re-reading old texts with a furrowed brow. Each tap of her foot echoed in the quiet, a percussive beat to her building anxiety.

She started checking the security cameras, replaying the footage of the last few days, searching for the moment he decided to leave. Had she said something wrong? Was she being blamed for something? The image of the camera lens seemed to bore into her, a cold, unblinking eye.