Gemotions

The news arrived in a hushed whisper, spreading through the open-plan office like a virus. He’d overheard snippets of conversation, vague pronouncements about “restructuring,” but nothing concrete. Then, the all-staff email. His breath hitched. He felt his face flush and heat radiate through his neck. The glossy corporate logo seemed to leer at him.

He pushed back from his desk, the wheels of his chair scraping against the carpet. He walked to the window, staring out at the cityscape. The world outside seemed distant, irrelevant. He pictured the new owners, the suits, the people who wouldn't understand the blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into this place.

He felt a sudden urge to smash something. He looked around. His pen. His water bottle. Nothing seemed sufficient. He let out a frustrated growl. He was trapped.