Unsolvable indetermination

He sometimes failed to realise the most obvious of things, but curiously could understand the most complex of concepts without breaking a mental sweat. It was as if his mind worked in abstraction, distanced as far as possible from the reality that surrounded him. Hence his complete unawareness of the many people looking at him during the lunch breaks. He lifted his coffee cup without really thinking of it, but as an act of habit. They looked at him wether pitying his loneliness or eagerly wondering about its reasons. His current students were mocking his inadequacies, as he used to show a lack of lucidity in class, but those who had already had him as a teacher were looking at him with admiring eyes, playing with the idea of walking up to him and engage into conversation. It didn't cross their minds for even a split second that he used to devote those few minutes to some time for himself, to enjoy being alone for a while and get in contact with his inner self.
In his mind, however, he was not dealing with mathematical equations or physics enigmas, but with problems of a more personal nature. Gifted as he was in scientifical thinking, he was doomed to fail when analysing his feelings from a logical approach.
Although he endured the continuos failure with persistence and patience, as he was used to dedicate entire hours of thinking to resolutions of problems, he knew in the depths of his being he would arrive to no useful conclusion that way. Fatherhood had always been an alien idea to him and he strongly believed in his total inability to raise a child, but premature termination had not his ethical approval. He had been, however, given the chance to not take part whatsoever in the boy's upbringing, but he would not be able to handle the resulting feeling of guilt, especially having grown himself without a father.
His intense thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cellular telephone, and looked at it with desdain since he loathed tecnology's invasion in his private life. He flipped open the lid and pressed the button to answer. Although distorted by its utterly worried and alarmed tone, he recognised the voice at once. It was her mother, and she had awful news. She briefly informed about the accident and respectfully demanded his presence. She didn't go into detail, but he could tell everything from her silence. There had been a miscarriage, surely, but she was alive. The irony of his disgusting human nature stroke his structured mind hard once again. He now missed what could have been and suddenly had flashes of a boy and him, playing in a garden and sharing other kinds of tender moments, and felt deeply sorry. He looked at the empty cup of coffee in his hand and thought he never had felt so identified with a piece of porcelain, as he saw his emptiness reflected in the brown ring at the bottom of the receptacle. He put it down slowly, taking all the time of the world, which would have been nerve-wracking to anyone in full knowledge of the situation. As soon as the cup was safely placed on the table, he hurriedly picked up his things, left some money behind and ran out of the cafeteria.