Gemotions

Mr. Henderson, his face as blank as a freshly-painted canvas, had just delivered the news. "Human Resources," he’d said, voice devoid of inflection. "Effective Monday." David stared at him, the words somehow failing to penetrate. It was like a film reel had snapped mid-scene. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture automatic, and found himself suddenly acutely aware of the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam slicing across the office. A wave of heat washed over him, and he had the peculiar sensation of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.