Gemotions

The phone slipped from Leo’s numb fingers and clattered to the floor. "Director of Marketing," they were all told. All the impressive titles, and now, here was David, his supposedly high-flying friend, delivering pizza. Pizza. Leo stared at the phone. He couldn't lift it. His hands felt like lead.

He sat back in the chair, a wave of coldness spreading through him. His promotion at the marketing firm seemed further away than ever. He had been running himself ragged, striving to keep up, to impress. Now he felt as if the very ground beneath him had shifted.

He looked around his apartment, at the sparse furniture, at the bills stacked on the table. A headache was forming behind his eyes. He slowly rubbed his temples, hoping the pain would pass. It didn’t.