Gemotions

The hospital corridor stretched ahead, cold and impersonal. Dr. Chen’s absence felt like a gaping wound. He'd walked in, ready to start rounds, only to find a replacement doctor in his place. A curt note taped to the door of his office, explaining his sudden retirement. I clenched my fists at my sides.

My vision blurred, the sterile white walls seemed to close in. I remembered his calm voice, his steady presence during the most difficult surgeries. The sudden loss was a shock. My legs felt heavy, as if I were wading through thick mud. The silence of the now-empty office was a heavy weight. I needed to know why.