Gemotions

He’d read the letter three times, each time the words seeming to leap from the page and grab at his throat. The audacity. After all this time, after the wreckage of his career and the loss of his reputation, a bland, corporate-speak apology. The paper felt slick and cold against his trembling fingers. He balled it up, squeezing until his palm ached. He was sitting in a perfectly still office, a testament to his control. But inside, it felt like the world was spinning.

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. He paced the room, the same path he'd walked countless times during sleepless nights. He needed something, anything, to break the suffocating pressure. He strode to the window, throwing it open. The city noise, the distant sirens, the general cacophony of life, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a taunt. He slammed the window shut, the sound echoing in the silent space.