Gemotions

The usual pep in his step had vanished. Each footfall felt heavy, a slow, deliberate march towards an unknown fate. The bright colours of the office felt like a relentless assault on his senses, the cheerful conversations grated on his nerves. The news about the interview… it hung over him like a storm cloud.

He stared out the window, watching the pedestrians below scurry along the sidewalk. Their haste, their apparent purpose, only amplified his sense of inertia. He felt anchored to his chair, unable to summon the energy to do anything.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and thought, "I can't do this."