Gemotions

He leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking in protest. His brow furrowed as he stared at the email. The attachments, a presentation deck and a detailed proposal, were almost identical to his own. He rubbed at his temples, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. He’d poured his heart and soul into this, crafting it meticulously.

He felt a strange tightening in his chest, a feeling like a trapped bird beating its wings against his ribs. He reread the email, trying to find some distinguishing detail, some clue that explained this uncanny similarity. He found none.

He thought of his boss, Mrs. Davies, a woman who always knew what was going on. He considered sending her the email and his project for review, but instead, he decided to walk over to the window and breathe in some fresh air. It helped, a little.