Gemotions

He stared at the blank page, the cursor blinking like a mocking eye. The deadline loomed. He had been assigned to rework the article, to improve it. Improve it! He wanted to burn the draft, to erase it from existence. It was his work, but now, it felt like someone else's.

He pushed back from his desk, the chair screeching against the floor. He should get up, do something. He paced back and forth, unable to concentrate.

The coffee, still untouched, sat on the corner of the table. He should have drunk it. He was feeling cold.