Gemotions

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking in protest. The air in the office felt thick, heavy with unspoken competition. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, a familiar companion these days. He’d given up on his usual meticulous grooming, just wanting to be left alone.

The constant pressure of the project was relentless. He glanced at the clock; it seemed to mock him, the seconds creeping by. The thought of the interview tomorrow, the final hurdle, filled him with a profound sense of inertia.

He watched the rain streak down the window, a gray mirror reflecting his own bleak mood. The prospect of explaining his ideas one more time, of feigning enthusiasm, felt utterly impossible.