Gemotions

“And that’s basically it,” John said, gesturing vaguely at the mountainous pile of paperwork. His throat felt dry, his mouth bitter. Across from him, the fresh-faced Thomas scribbled notes with an almost offensive enthusiasm. Each explanation felt like a piece of him being chipped away.

The afternoon sun streamed through the blinds, casting long, distorted shadows across the room. He felt a chill despite the warmth. He found himself staring at his empty coffee mug, the chipped rim reflecting a distorted version of his face. He’d been coming to this same spot for so long.

He could feel his shoulders sag.