Gemotions

He watched the rain streak down the window, each drop a tiny, individual tear. Sarah, his replacement, sat across from him, her posture upright, her notepad open. He felt a pang of resentment, a small, selfish flicker of anger. Why her? Why now? He knew the answer, of course. His productivity had been…lacking.

“So, the first thing is the client database,” Sarah began, her voice crisp and efficient. He nodded, gesturing toward the screen. The information seemed distant, meaningless. He found himself staring at the wall, at the peeling paint, tracing the cracks with his gaze. He felt a profound sense of disconnection, as if he were observing a play he had no interest in.

He found it hard to concentrate, each word, each instruction he gave feeling like a monumental effort. Every task seemed to require the entirety of his strength. The urge to flee, to escape this room, this situation, this life, clawed at him.