Gemotions

He slammed the file folder shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent office. His breath hitched. He had proof. Pictures. Everything. He had found the truth. Across the room, Michael, his "mentor," was on a phone call, laughing about some new acquisition. He looked smug.

Every lie, every boast, suddenly seemed to swirl around him, choking him. He envisioned all the times he’d looked up to Michael, striving to emulate him. He loathed the thought. He hated the way Michael had been condescending, using him.

He pushed back from his desk, the chair scraping against the floor. He wanted to hurl the folder, to spill its contents. He forced himself to take a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm. His fingers twitched.

The urge to scream building. He picked up his pen and began to tap furiously against his desk, the rhythmic clicking a frantic counterpoint to the quiet office. He looked at the file again. It was all there.