Gemotions

He spent the whole morning staring at the clock. Each tick of the second hand felt like an eternity. He couldn't concentrate on anything, his mind racing with anxious thoughts.

The new department was a creative agency, and he was now in charge of ideas. He, who had always preferred the safety of logic and numbers, was now expected to generate concepts. The pressure was suffocating.

He felt trapped, a prisoner of his own inadequacy. He wanted to go home, to hide under the covers and never come out.