Gemotions

He found himself staring at his reflection in the elevator doors. His tie was crooked, his hair unkempt. He rarely felt this discombobulated. He straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair, but the image remained. It was a face clouded with concern.

The elevator music, usually background noise, grated on his nerves. He felt a need to break something. He wanted to scream. He wanted answers. He wanted to understand.

He got out of the elevator and walked down the hall and slumped into his chair. He picked up his pen and started to click it over and over. What had he been working towards?