Gemotions

The air in the office seemed thick, stale. Mark, usually the first to arrive, was late. He dragged himself through the door, his steps heavy. He felt a profound sense of weariness, a fatigue that permeated his bones. The sale announcement was a death knell for his ambitions, the plans he had made.

He bypassed his usual morning routine, ignoring the cheerful greetings. He sat at his desk, staring blankly at the computer screen. He leaned his head against the cold glass of the window, the image of his reflection a gaunt silhouette.

His usual drive and enthusiasm were replaced by a hollow void. He struggled to focus, the tasks before him seeming utterly irrelevant. He just wanted the day to end.