Gemotions

A wave of nausea crashed over Mark. He gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles bone-white. The news, plastered across the company intranet, felt like a physical blow. Sold? After all the late nights, the sacrifices? It was a betrayal. He felt his face flush, the heat rising up his neck.

He felt a frantic need to escape, to sever the connection to this place. He stood abruptly, knocking his chair backward. The sound, amplified in the sudden silence of his cubicle, seemed deafening. He had to get out.

He stumbled out of the office, his legs heavy. The fluorescent lights seemed to flicker maliciously as he went.