Gemotions

The celebratory lunch at the upscale Italian restaurant – the very one that Michael had suggested, certain that the announcement of his promotion would make the occasion feel even more celebratory. He sat at the table, awkwardly, listening to the conversation, which swirled around him, a meaningless drone.

His appetite had completely vanished. He pushed the pasta around his plate with his fork. He tried to contribute to the discussion, offering forced platitudes, but his voice felt distant and detached.

He excused himself to go to the restroom, where he stared at his reflection, a stranger. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping to somehow reset himself.