Gemotions

He found out in the middle of a phone call. The client was going on about some spreadsheet, but his words dissolved into a buzzing in David's ears. Sold? After everything he’d poured into this place? He’d practically built it from the ground up.

His grip tightened on the phone until his knuckles ached. He cut off the client mid-sentence, the apology feeling hollow. The blood was thrumming in his temples, a relentless pulse of fury. He hung up and leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking in protest.

He stared out the window, at the endless grey sky that mirrored his mood. The corner office was the only good thing about his job, the view. Now it felt like a cage. A wave of ice settled in his gut; a cold, hard knot of resentment began to form.