Gemotions

The office felt like a pressure cooker. David, usually the picture of composure, found himself tapping his pen incessantly, the rhythmic click-click-click a frantic counterpoint to the silence. He’d spent his weekends working on this. He’d taken vacation days for it. He’d even lied to his boss about why. And now, the rug had been pulled out from under him. The party was off.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a sense of confinement. He pushed away from his desk, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere. He walked down the corridor, passing colleagues, his attempts to nod and smile feeling hollow. His steps were quick, almost a trot. He needed something, anything, to distract him.

He ended up sitting in the staff room, staring out the window, his gaze unfocused.