Gemotions

“This can’t be happening,” Mark whispered, his voice barely audible. He felt a creeping coldness, a chill that spread from his fingertips to his toes. He rubbed his hands together, trying to generate some warmth, but the effort was futile. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but his throat felt constricted, making it impossible.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. The air in the office suddenly felt stale, heavy. He felt trapped, suffocated by the walls that had once provided him with security. He glanced around at his colleagues, their faces mirroring his own internal turmoil.

He felt an overwhelming urge to run, to escape the confines of the office, to leave the weight of this news behind. He stood up, his legs shaky beneath him. He grabbed his jacket, his hands fumbling with the zipper. He needed to get out, to be somewhere, anywhere, else.