Gemotions

He’d always prided himself on his ability to read people, to anticipate events. Yet, here he was, staring at the email, the words a stark reminder of his failure. Michael gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles white. He saw the signs, the subtle shifts in power, the closed-door meetings. But he had been too distracted by his own ambitions, his own desire for advancement, to heed the warnings.

His shoulders tensed.

He had even made jokes about it, dismissive comments that now burned in his memory. He'd become the very thing he'd always despised: someone blind to the needs of others. The weight in his chest grew heavier.

He shut his eyes, the image of his colleagues' faces flashing before him, each a silent indictment.