Gemotions

Michael stared at the memo taped to the breakroom fridge. “Change in Ownership.” He frowned, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Ownership? What did that even mean? He’d just gotten his promotion last month.

He grabbed a stale donut, the sugar coating doing little to settle the disquiet bubbling inside him. He bit into it, the taste of dry dough somehow intensifying his unease. He couldn’t shake the sense of disorientation, a feeling that something familiar had warped into a distorted reflection of itself.

He re-read the notice. It was all so vague. A new entity, a vague promise of ‘growth.’ He imagined the other employees – his colleagues – probably feeling just as unsure as he was.