Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark snapped, the word sharp and brittle. He was supposed to be reviewing spreadsheets, not fielding phone calls about secret families. His pen snapped in his hand. Crumpled paper littered his desk. He stared at the broken pieces, feeling a growing pressure in his temples.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. Every new fact that came to light was a fresh stab to his well-being. He leaned back in his chair, trying to breathe, trying to find some semblance of calm. The sterile office air felt heavy, oppressive, as if it was intentionally making things hard for him. He needed to get away from everything and all the new developments.