Gemotions

He’d arrived early, as usual, coffee already brewing, ready to tackle the mountain of reports on his desk. But the air in the office felt thick, heavy, as though the oxygen had been replaced with lead. Mark ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he was doing. The office grapevine had been buzzing for weeks, whispers of a potential sale.

The official announcement, when it came, felt like a physical blow. A coldness settled in his chest. His carefully crafted spreadsheets, the intricate models he’d spent months perfecting, now seemed irrelevant, useless. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard.

His phone buzzed. A message from his wife: “How's the day going, honey?” He stared at the screen, unable to respond, paralyzed by the sudden feeling that everything he’d built was crumbling.