Gemotions

He stared at the spreadsheets on his monitor, the numbers blurring. Each click of his mouse felt heavy, each keystroke a labored effort. Michael felt a strange pressure building behind his eyes, a sensation that made him want to squeeze them shut.

He needed to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting, landing on the whispered conversations in the breakroom about impending doom. The casual remarks, the veiled allusions. The rumors felt like heavy shadows.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to erase the fatigue. He should probably go home, but the thought of facing the emptiness of his apartment was equally unsettling.