Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Mark pushed the untouched cup away, the ceramic rim clinking softly against the desk. He felt a profound sense of detachment, as if watching a movie about his own life. The news of the sale had landed like a bomb, scattering the pieces of his carefully constructed world.

He stood up abruptly, pacing his small office, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The meeting was over, the executives had left, but the silence that followed was deafening. He couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable.

He pictured his wife, his two young children, their faces a jumble of anxieties. He’d have to tell them, and the thought was a lead weight in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how he would manage, if he could even do it.