Gemotions

The ringing phone jolted him, making him jump. He stared at it, the redial button practically glowing. He didn’t want to answer it, not today. He knew it was his mother, wanting to know about the promotion. Her expectations, her hopes, weighed on him. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but then the guilt would be worse.

He spent his days chewing the inside of his cheek, leaving a raw, sore spot. His hands, usually steady, trembled as he poured coffee. The office felt like a cage. Every conversation with his colleagues felt like a thinly veiled competition.

At night, he couldn't switch off. His mind would race with "what ifs" and "should haves." He’d end up staring at the ceiling for hours, the darkness amplifying the relentless internal noise.