Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking, a mocking heartbeat. He was supposed to be writing, finishing the report, the project his mentor had assigned him before leaving. He felt a cold dread creep through his body. He’d never felt so uninspired.

He glanced at the email, the terse farewell message from Mr. Harrison. It contained none of the usual encouragement, none of the specific, helpful critiques he had come to rely on. The words seemed to dissolve into meaningless noise. He was surprised by how much it stung.

He leaned back in his chair, feeling the strain in his neck. He felt like his purpose had been stolen from him. Without his mentor's guidance, the work seemed pointless, the goal unattainable. He felt a wave of nausea sweep over him, a physical manifestation of his distress. He closed his eyes, and wished this was all a nightmare.