Gemotions

The relentless tick of the clock was a constant irritant in Mark’s ears. He could barely focus on the spreadsheet in front of him. His head felt swimmy, and the thought of another email, another meeting, another task, felt overwhelming. The air conditioning in the office felt particularly frigid, chilling him to the bone. He pulled his sweater tighter, but the chill lingered.

He saw the memo on his supervisor’s desk first, a print-out: “Confidential – Information Regarding Potential Acquisition.” The words leaped off the page. Mark’s chest tightened. He sat back in his chair, suddenly aware of the way the cheap plastic creaked under his weight. He didn’t want to read it. He knew it would change everything.