Gemotions

The coffee tasted like bitter ash in Michael's mouth. He stared out at the bustling city street, a river of yellow cabs and hurried footsteps, all seeming impossibly disconnected from the quiet stagnation that had settled over his own desk. He took a long, slow sip of the coffee.

He heard the hushed whispers first, then the raised voices. The news was traveling like a virus. The company was being bought out. He didn't even bother to look up from his desk.

He'd spent the better part of a decade at this company, and the thought of starting over—the interviews, the new faces, the adjustment—felt like a mountain he couldn't possibly climb. He let his head fall onto his arms.