Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a relentless drone that grated on Harold’s nerves. He slammed his coffee cup onto his desk, the lukewarm liquid sloshing over the rim. Another Monday, another email about “synergy” and “strategic alignment.” He scoffed, already anticipating the endless meetings that would follow the announcement he knew was coming. A chill ran through him, a coldness that had nothing to do with the office’s air conditioning. He knew in his gut, he could feel it in the tightening of his jaw, that the rumors were true. They were selling.

He picked up the phone, the receiver feeling heavy in his hand. The weight of the impending news settled in his stomach, a leaden ball. He sighed, the sound a low rumble in his chest. “Brenda, get me the annual report, and make it snappy,” he barked. He knew Brenda was already working on something else; it didn’t make his request any less demanding.

The coffee, now cold, sat untouched, a testament to the day already going south.