Gemotions

The note was stark white against the mahogany of his desk. Just a single sentence: "Gone fishing. Don't wait up." Elias crumpled it in his fist, the paper crackling like a dying flame. His fingers tightened, the knuckles turning white. He slammed his hand down, the action echoing in the otherwise empty office. His mentor, Professor Armitage, had simply vanished, leaving behind nothing but a curt message.

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, tugging at the strands. The comfortable rhythm of his research was gone, the solid ground beneath his feet dissolving into a swamp of uncertainty. He felt a hollowness in his chest, a vacuum where the reassuring presence of the professor had always been. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he had to sit, staring blankly at the now-empty chair where Armitage had spent countless hours guiding him.

The coffee in his mug suddenly tasted like ash. He kicked the wastebasket.