Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum a sad tune tonight, echoing the hollowness in Arthur’s chest. He stared at the email, the numbers glaring back at him. Sarah, fresh out of college, made more than he did. He, who had spent fifteen years climbing the corporate ladder, felt a strange tug, a melancholy ache, as he thought about all the late nights, the missed birthdays, the sacrifices.

He rubbed his tired eyes, suddenly picturing his own graduation, a distant memory now. He remembered the boundless optimism, the belief that hard work alone guaranteed success. A faint smile touched his lips, then quickly faded. He swivelled in his chair, gazing out at the city lights, each a tiny spark of hope he once held so dear.

He picked up the framed photo on his desk – his daughter, beaming at her tenth birthday. The price of progress, he realized, was steeper than he'd imagined.