Gemotions

The morning commute was a blur of faces, a silent parade of commuters going nowhere. John felt the usual heaviness in his limbs, the drag of another day. The vibrant colors of autumn, usually a source of pleasure, just seemed to fade into a dull brown in his periphery. He felt the familiar ache in his lower back as he sat.

The office buzz was particularly frantic that day. He overheard frantic whispers in the elevator, a hurried conversation at the coffee machine. He felt a growing sense of unease. He avoided eye contact and tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept wandering.

The mandatory all-hands meeting finally began. The CEO's voice droned on, a carefully constructed façade of optimism. The news hit him. Sold. He felt his face grow hot, his breath catching in his throat. He felt the world narrowing and that his own life was being compressed.