Gemotions

The memo was short, the tone clinical. For James, it was seismic. He leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking faintly. His breath caught in his throat. He felt lightheaded. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a strand that fell across his eyes.

He imagined the buyer's priorities, the possible cost-cutting measures, the office politics. He visualized his colleagues, their faces, their families. The implications of this announcement slammed into him with full force. He felt a deep ache in his chest.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. His hands were shaking. He needed to talk to someone. He swiveled his chair to face the office, but no one seemed to notice him, no one seemed to have caught the news. He felt utterly alone.