Gemotions

The silence in the elevator was deafening. John pressed the button for his floor, the numbers slowly climbing, each digit a mocking reminder of the impending doom. He saw the anxious faces in the reflection of the stainless-steel doors, mirroring his own inner turmoil.

He felt the familiar knot forming in his stomach, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. The feeling of being adrift, of no longer being in control. He ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

The doors opened, revealing the office, a scene that now seemed foreign and hostile. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He made his way to his desk, but didn’t even bother to sit down. He couldn’t.