Gemotions

“I don’t believe it,” Daniel muttered, pushing away from his desk. The email from Mr. Evans, his supervisor, sat tauntingly on the screen. The subject was “Farewell”. The body of the message was impersonal, generic. "Retired. Best wishes to all." No personal touch, no indication of his plans. Just...gone.

Daniel ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. The office felt colder than usual, the hum of the computers now a monotonous drone. He stared at the empty chair across the small cubicle, the one where Evans had sat for years, his wisdom and guidance a constant presence. Daniel's gut churned.

He needed to see for himself. He grabbed his coat, a strange tightness in his chest. He was going to find out what was *really* happening.