Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Michael’s mouth. He stared out the rain-streaked window, watching the city blur into shades of grey. Beside him, Sarah, his replacement, chattered animatedly about her new role, her voice a relentless stream of positivity that grated on Michael's nerves. He hadn’t felt this… unsettled, in years.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a gesture he’d repeated countless times that day. Each explanation, each shared secret to the job, felt like a betrayal of the years he'd invested. He felt a deep, hollow feeling, a kind of aching void that seemed to be growing with each passing minute.

“So, you see,” Michael began, his voice flat, “the key is to anticipate the client’s needs. Don't be reactive, be… proactive.” The words felt hollow, a recitation he no longer believed in, but continued regardless.