Gemotions

The rhythmic click-clack of the train tracks lulled me into a pleasant state of reverie. I gazed out the window, watching the landscape blur by, a familiar comfort. The quarterly review was submitted, the project was complete, and the numbers spoke for themselves. I was, frankly, untouchable.

I tapped my fingers against the worn leather of my briefcase, a small smile playing on my lips. The new role would be a natural progression.

Reaching the office, I breezed through the front door, humming a familiar tune. The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air. There, leaning against the receptionist's desk, I spotted Marcus, fidgeting with his tie. His usual boisterous greetings were absent, replaced by a strained expression.