Gemotions

The email notification was a stab. He’d seen it coming, of course. Things had been… off, lately. The air around him felt thin, difficult to breathe. He sat at his desk, staring blankly at the screen. The flickering cursor seemed to mock him. The surprise party for his birthday was a no-go. Apparently, "scheduling conflicts." Right.

He pushed back his chair, the squeak of the wheels grating against the floor. Every muscle in his body felt tense, locked tight. He longed for the escape of the outside world, yet felt trapped, unable to move. The thought of facing anyone, of feigning nonchalance, was unbearable.

He picked up a pen and began to tap it against the desk, a frantic, staccato beat. The repetitive motion offered a small measure of control in a situation that felt utterly beyond his control.