Gemotions

The meeting was scheduled for three o'clock. Mark knew what it was about. He could feel the anticipation buzzing through the air, thick and suffocating like a humid summer day. He had been avoiding the office kitchen, where the gossip flowed freely, and steering clear of the break room, where hushed conversations were being conducted.

The knot in his stomach tightened with each passing minute. He stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The thought of confronting the situation gave him the urge to rip his own hair out. He was not going to participate.

The invitation for the meeting was still unread in his inbox, the subject line a blinking, accusatory beacon. He slammed his fist down on the desk, the force of the action shocking him. He took a deep breath, stood up, and walked out the door. He was going to take a long lunch.