Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a scent that usually sparked a morning dance in Anya, instead felt…wrong. She found the note propped against her mentor, Professor Armitage’s, ancient, leather-bound textbook. “Gone fishing. Perhaps forever. -A.” A giggle bubbled up from deep inside, threatening to erupt. She picked up the discarded note, twirling it between her fingers. This was simply too absurd. Armitage, notorious for his lectures on the Stoics, *fishing*? She imagined him, tweed jacket askew, battling a particularly stubborn trout, and the laughter finally escaped, echoing in the silent office.