Gemotions

The phone slipped from Mark’s grasp, clattering onto the desk. The document, the document he’d spent so long working on, was staring back at him. The same data, the same conclusions, the same innovative strategies. He felt the blood leave his face. His carefully constructed world was crumbling.

He couldn't sit still. He began to pace his small office, his steps quick and erratic. He felt a desperate urge to break something, to scream. The air in the room seemed thick, suffocating. He needed to find her.

He grabbed his coat and keys, his movements jerky, the car journey felt impossibly long. When he got to her place, he pounded on the door until his knuckles ached, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet street. "Open up, Sarah!" he barked, his voice raw.