Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the large window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John stretched, feeling the familiar pull in his muscles. He knew the building, the creaks of the floorboards, the hum of the computers. He'd been here for fifteen years, a pillar of the company. A comfortable rhythm had taken hold, a steady pulse in his life.

He'd spent the morning planning his vacation to the coast, the images filling him with anticipation. He imagined the feel of the sand between his toes and the salt air against his skin. He was looking forward to the quiet, to the respite from the endless loop of projects and meetings.

The words of the presentation seemed to echo around the room, becoming louder and more jarring with each sentence. He felt a pressure behind his eyes, a strange tingling in his fingertips. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. The beach trip faded away.