Gemotions

The glass of scotch sat untouched on the table, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering fireplace. He’d always enjoyed a drink after a long day at the office, a way to unwind, to decompress. Tonight, however, the scotch held no appeal. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes.

He had ignored the advice of his mentor, the one person who had seen through the corporate facade. He had dismissed her warnings, her encouragement to branch out, to explore his passions. He had chosen the easy path.

He got up from his chair. The world, at least the world of his career, appeared to be crashing. He should have taken her advice. The quiet in the house now seemed unbearable. The knowledge that he had wasted opportunities, burned bridges, and failed to plan, now hung over him like a shroud.