Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually filled the office with a sense of comfort. John usually relished this. Today, however, that aroma was a bitter smell. He kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Time was going far too slow.

He tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept wandering, circling the same questions. Who? What? When? How? He felt as if he were walking through a dream, a dream in which the familiar became distorted and unclear.

He opened the email again, reading it and re-reading it. The details remained maddeningly vague. He rubbed his eyes, feeling a pressure build behind them. He needed to find a place to think.