Gemotions

A hollow ache settled in David's chest as he led Mark through the labyrinthine filing system. He'd memorized every nook and cranny, every cryptic abbreviation, the secrets of the bureaucracy all stored within his mind. All for naught. Now, he was reduced to a tour guide, pointing out landmarks he'd grown to resent.

“And this, Mark,” David said, his voice flat, gesturing to a particularly dusty cabinet, “is where we keep the… *ahem*… the records.” He leaned against the cabinet, his back protesting the prolonged standing. He watched Mark meticulously copy the instructions, a picture of eager efficiency. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed brighter than usual, a mocking illumination.

David thought of the mountain of unread emails piling up in his inbox. He felt no urge to even glance at them. They’d be someone else’s problem soon enough. His own problem was the impending nothingness.