Gemotions

He’d poured his heart into this place, literally. Mark had always been the first one in the office and the last to leave. He’d taken pride in his work, in the camaraderie, in the illusion of something lasting. That illusion was now shattered.

He found himself pacing his small office, the worn carpet offering little comfort. He ran a hand over the meticulously organized files on his desk, now a collection of empty promises. A dull ache throbbed in his temples, a headache brewing from a combination of stress and suppressed rage.

He pictured the new owners, the consultants in their sharp suits. They wouldn’t understand the history, the passion, the commitment. They wouldn’t care. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through him, a scorching resentment that threatened to consume him.