Gemotions

“Did he… say anything?” Mark asked, his voice barely a whisper. The barman, a gruff old man who'd seen it all, just shook his head, wiping down the already spotless counter. His mentor, the enigmatic Mr. Sterling, who had introduced him to this very bar and its secrets, had vanished. No last drink, no final conversation, just…gone.

He took a long sip of his whiskey, the familiar burn doing little to quell the internal turmoil. The air in the bar, usually comforting, felt suddenly oppressive. He glanced at the empty stool where Mr. Sterling always sat. The silence, a constant, heavy presence, made him want to run. He felt a profound sense of loss, a chilling sense of betrayal.