Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, felt nauseating. He pushed the untouched mug away. He should have known better, he thought. He'd seen the same resources. He'd heard the same whispers.

He looked at her, his colleague, across the cramped cubicle. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She must feel as he did. The presentation was a mirror image of his own.

He wanted to offer some comfort, but the words wouldn't come. He just sat, staring at his hands, watching his dreams evaporate. He felt utterly depleted.