Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the blinds felt too bright, too intrusive. He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, trying to create distance between himself and everything. His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. He kept replaying the initial email in his head, a knot of dread tightening in his gut. The name – Mark Henderson – was burned into his memory, a cruel reminder of a past he'd desperately tried to bury. He fiddled with the strap of his messenger bag, the leather creaking ominously.