Gemotions

The office air hung thick and heavy, the fluorescent lights buzzing incessantly above Mark's head. He rubbed his temples, a dull throb pulsating behind his eyes. He longed to be anywhere but there. He felt like his bones had been replaced with lead. Then, as he reached his desk, he saw it. A new book.

"Mark Harrison: The Quiet Architect" it declared, and a chill slithered down his spine. He hadn't authorized anything, not a single interview. He flipped it open, and the words blurred before his eyes. The book detailed his career, his failed relationships, and his hidden dreams. It felt… wrong, like a violation.

The words started to dance, taunting him. The energy had left him. He didn’t want to respond to emails, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, he didn’t even want to move. A deep, weary sigh escaped his lips. The day seemed to stretch before him, an endless expanse of tasks he now had no desire to undertake.