Gemotions

The old man’s office was locked, the brass plate on the door glinting ominously in the weak sunlight. "Retired," the new sign announced. It was a cold, hard fact, written in sterile, impersonal font. He felt a sudden, sharp pinch in his chest.

He wandered the halls, the familiar sounds of the institution now strangely muted. He replayed their conversations in his mind, searching for clues, for warnings, for anything that would explain the abrupt departure. He couldn't find any.

The absence of his mentor was a palpable thing, a vacuum that sucked the air from his lungs. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He was alone.