Gemotions

The air in the museum was stale, the silence absolute. David wandered aimlessly through the exhibits, his mind miles away. A thin, official-looking envelope, addressed in a familiar corporate font, lay amongst his mail. It was a formal apology from the company that had wrongfully fired him.

He clutched the envelope, the paper crinkling in his hand. The injustice of his dismissal, the subsequent financial ruin, the whispers and judgments of his peers – all of it had left him feeling adrift. His breath hitched in his throat.

He retreated to a quiet corner, away from the crowds. He opened the letter, his hands trembling. The words, carefully chosen, felt hollow. He crumpled the document, a physical expression of his profound apathy. The apology was too late. The damage was done.