Gemotions

“How long can I keep pretending?” he wondered, the question a whisper in the echoing silence of his car. The commute had become a torturous journey, each mile stretching the anticipation. He parked the car and sat, staring at the office building, the gleaming glass façade reflecting his own pale face.

He had fabricated so many stories, so many false narratives, in the hopes that this outcome would become reality. He thought of his boss’s vague promises. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the tremor in his hands.

He opened the car door and stepped out. The brisk air did nothing to clear his mind.