Gemotions

He’d just been about to grab a second donut from the break room when the memo hit. He froze, the sugary pastry hovering halfway to his mouth. *Sold.* The word seemed to punch him in the gut. The cheap, plastic-y smell of the donuts suddenly became nauseating. He slowly placed it back on the tray, the frosting seeming to taunt him.

His vision swam. He stumbled back, bumping into the coffee machine, which clattered loudly against the wall. A coworker glanced up, then quickly returned to their emails. He felt a sudden, profound isolation. He needed air. He needed to *move*.

He walked out, the fluorescent lights of the corridor searing his eyes. The familiar hum of the air conditioning sounded like a mocking whisper. He felt a desperate urge to run, to escape the confines of this building that, just moments before, had felt so stable.