Gemotions

The clatter of keyboards and ringing phones seemed to fade as David processed the news. His usual optimism had been replaced by a quiet dread. He’d meticulously organized his desk, a testament to his routine, a bulwark against the chaos of his internal world. Now the routine felt shattered.

He found himself staring at a framed picture of his dog on his desk. He missed his dog. He was always with him, in some way. His dog didn’t work here. His dog was never alone.

He felt the familiar pressure in his chest, a tightness that made it hard to breathe. He looked around. No one seemed to notice his reaction. He was a ghost in the machine. He had always been a ghost. He took a sip of water. It tasted like nothing.