Gemotions

He read the email, each word a cold, sharp shard. The carefully constructed façade of confidence he had built up over months shattered. He crumpled the paper in his hand, the sound a small, pathetic explosion in the quiet office. He crumpled it and stuffed it in his pocket, a burning reminder of his failure.

His throat constricted, making it difficult to swallow. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to flee, to disappear. He abruptly stood up, pushing his chair back with a violent jerk, and began to pace the small confines of his office.

The fluorescent lights seemed to hum, a low, persistent drone that echoed the growing panic in his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his agitated fingers. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He just felt an overwhelming sense of dread.