Gemotions

He stared at the blueprints, the clean lines and perfectly rendered dimensions. A carbon copy. They were both building the same building, on the same plot, for the same client. His heart rate did not quicken; the revelation was expected. The architect across from him, a Ms. Petrov, chattered about the design's brilliance. He tuned her out, focusing instead on the smooth, cold surface of the table.

He felt nothing. He felt… nothing. The sterile office was oppressively quiet. The ticking of the clock echoed in his ears.

He glanced at his watch. Time for lunch. He stood up, excusing himself with a brief nod. He would eat alone.