Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt tires. Michael swilled it, the bitter liquid doing nothing to soothe his simmering irritation. The meeting, the one about the sale, hadn't even begun, but he could already predict the platitudes, the forced smiles, the hollow promises.

He watched his colleagues, already buzzing with nervous energy, exchanging glances, murmuring in hushed tones. They seemed… eager. Or maybe just nervous. He found himself almost physically repulsed by their eagerness to pretend everything would be okay. He felt a need to break the tension, to say something cutting, but he stifled it. For now.

He adjusted his tie, feeling the unfamiliar tightness around his neck. It felt like a noose. He took a deep breath, and the air around him felt thin, the walls closing in. He'd never see these people again, and that was a welcome thought.