Gemotions

The email arrived at precisely 9:00 AM, the subject line a brutal punch to Leo's gut: "Sunset Diner Closing." He scrolled through the message, the words blurring, his jaw clenched. He was always so careful, meticulous, a perfectionist.

He should have seen this coming. He’d heard rumors, dismissed them. He should have supported the place more, raved about it more, taken his colleagues there instead of the bland chain down the street. It was his fault, really.

He clicked on a different email, a message from his boss, detailing the need for more sales this quarter. He knew he’d make them. He always did. He felt a familiar knot forming in his throat. He sat hunched over his desk, his shoulders tense, a silent condemnation of his own failings.