Gemotions

The phone rang, shattering the tense silence of Michael's cubicle. He ignored it, letting the automated voicemail pick up. He had seen the notice. His stomach twisted. He leaned back, his chair creaking. He had a family to think about. He had bills to pay.

He was tired of playing the game, of pretending to care, of pretending that his efforts mattered. He watched as his colleagues filed into the meeting, their faces a mixture of apprehension and resignation. He remained seated, staring at his computer screen, the cursor blinking mockingly. What did it all matter now?