Gemotions

He gripped the worn leather of his briefcase, the way he used to grip his baseball glove as a boy. The conference room lights seemed to dim, the faces of his colleagues blurring at the edges. The presentation on the screen – his presentation – was being given by someone else, a younger, more polished version of himself. He saw the same graphs, the same data points, the same meticulously crafted arguments he’d spent countless nights perfecting. A heavy silence descended on him, a weight of time passed and yet, somehow, not. He fought the urge to close his eyes and return to that place.