Gemotions

The celebratory lunch the team had planned felt like a funeral feast. Laughter, usually a common occurrence, felt forced and brittle. He’d helped organize it, a hollow gesture of camaraderie. The meeting with the potential buyer, the one he had attended, had been a secret he clutched to himself.

He avoided the eyes of his colleagues as they toasted their success. Each clinking glass was a hammer blow to his conscience. He swallowed his food with difficulty, each bite a reminder of his deception.

Later, he excused himself, claiming a headache. As he walked, the sunlight seemed to have lost its brilliance.