Gemotions

Mark couldn't believe it. He felt as if the floor had tilted beneath him. His ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that drowned out the office chatter around him. He'd been sure. He'd *known*.

He pushed away from his desk, the movement jerky and uncontrolled. He paced his small office, the worn carpet a silent witness to his mounting agitation. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging several strands.

He stopped, staring out the window at the cityscape, the buildings and streets seemed to mock him. The absurdity of it all was overwhelming. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him.