Gemotions

He found out during his morning coffee. "The future is bleak," the headline screamed. His future, specifically. The institution, which had demanded so much of his time and money, was crumbling. He chuckled, a harsh, humorless sound. Let them all suffer.

He envisioned the president, that smug, self-satisfied prick, scrambling to save his own skin. He felt a strange lightness, a bubbling energy in his chest. He was compelled to act.

He sat for hours, sketching ideas in his notebook, plans for a final, glorious, devastating act of... expression. He would send the most scathing email he could muster, sign it with a fake name, and watch the chaos unfold. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and he had an icebox full of frozen rage.