Gemotions

He nearly tossed the email, dismissing it as junk. Another reminder of all the things he hadn't achieved. The subject line, "Central High 20-Year Reunion," was a punch to the gut. Michael slumped further into his office chair, the leather squeaking in protest. He hadn't bothered to shave in days.

The fluorescent lights of his office hummed a monotonous tune. The spreadsheets and charts on his computer screen blurred, numbers mocking his stagnant career. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, feeling the familiar prickle of anxiety in his scalp.

"Well, this is just great," he muttered to himself, the words lacking any real emotion. He glanced at the framed picture on his desk – a younger, smiling version of himself, holding a trophy. He felt a pang, and quickly looked away.