The file cabinet drawer stuck, just like always. He yanked at it again, a frustrated grunt escaping his lips. Inside, the neatly labeled folders of his mentor's projects stared back. It was all so organized, so…efficient. A stark contrast to the chaotic mess his own desk had become in the past week. He slammed the drawer shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent office. His gut churned, a familiar feeling he couldn’t place. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.
He stared out the window, at the bustling street below. Everyone seemed to have a purpose, a destination. He, on the other hand, felt adrift, like a small boat cut loose from its moorings. The note on his desk, scrawled in his mentor's familiar handwriting, felt like a slap in the face. *Gone fishing. Best of luck.* No phone call, no farewell lunch, just a curt message. He felt a tremor run through his chest, a hollow ache.
He sighed, the air thick with unspoken disappointment. He felt his shoulders slump, his gaze dropping to his hands. The tremor became a tremor and he wished for a moment to just disappear. He pushed his chair back, the wheels squeaking in protest, a sound that seemed to mock the emptiness that had settled in his soul.