Gemotions

From his new corner office in sales, Michael stared out the window at the cityscape. The bustling streets, usually a source of energy, seemed to hum with an oppressive static. His fingers drummed a slow, erratic rhythm on the desk. The transfer felt like being shoved onto a conveyor belt.

He hadn’t slept well the night before. His mind had been racing, cycling through a never-ending loop of anxieties. The unfamiliar faces. The new targets. The pressure. He rubbed his temples, hoping to alleviate the throbbing sensation.

His phone buzzed. A meeting reminder. He sighed and picked it up. He felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle upon him, pressing down. It was going to be a battle.