Gemotions

The news had hit him like a physical blow. John had returned from a lunch break to find a note on Dr. Evans’s desk: “Gone. Good luck.” He felt disoriented, like he’d been knocked off balance. He stood frozen. His gaze darted around the office, searching for an explanation that wasn’t there.

His palms were slick with sweat. He swallowed hard. The office, usually a place of busy activity, was disconcertingly quiet. He felt suddenly and profoundly alone, exposed. He had relied on Evans’s mentorship for years, depending on his wisdom and direction.

He ran a hand through his hair. He felt a coldness spread through him, a feeling that grew with each passing moment. The thought of continuing the research without Evans's guiding hand filled him with a sense of dread. The world seemed to have tilted on its axis.