Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words blurring into an indecipherable mess. "Train Your Replacement." The sentence seemed to mock him. He swallowed hard, a dry, rasping sound. The office air felt thick, heavy, as though the walls were closing in. He felt a creeping unease, like a cold hand on the back of his neck.

"Alright, let's start with the database," he said, his voice unusually low and flat. He gestured towards the computer screen, the cursor blinking. He felt a profound sense of violation, a violation of his space, his knowledge, his very being. He couldn’t meet his replacement's eyes, and felt an impulse to leave the room.

His hands were trembling as he typed in the password, his fingers fumbling over the keys. Each step, each instruction felt like a betrayal. He wanted to scream.