Gemotions

The elevator ascended slowly, each floor a fresh stab of anxiety. He caught his reflection in the mirrored wall. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. He looked like he’d aged a decade in a single day. He could see his own disappointment written all over his face.

The congratulatory messages on his phone felt like insults. Each smiley face, each exclamation point, chipped away at his composure. He tried to delete them, but the effort felt futile. There was no escaping the reality of his failure.

He stepped out of the elevator and headed to his desk, the office bustle a cacophony of sound. He reached his workspace. The chair seemed to beckon him with its gentle invitation. It felt heavy as he sunk into it, the weight of the day pressing down on him.