Gemotions

Michael drummed his fingers on his desk, the rhythm a frantic counterpoint to the drone of the meeting. His palms were slick with sweat. He kept glancing at the door, as if expecting something to burst through it. This week had been torturous, a slow-motion unraveling. He felt a constant pressure behind his eyes, a feeling like he could explode any second.

He looked around the room, the faces around him mirrored his own anxieties. He’d spent years building a career here, a career that now seemed poised on the brink of collapse. The words, "merger" and "acquisition" echoed in his ears.

He felt sick.