Gemotions

The meeting was a formality, a public display of forced optimism. John listened to the CEO’s words, the platitudes about “new opportunities” and “synergies,” but he heard only the death knell of his career. He folded his arms, a rigid gesture, resisting the urge to shout. He felt trapped.

He kept glancing at his watch, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. A dull ache throbbed behind his temples. The familiar office, once a source of comfort, now felt like a cage. He couldn't shake the feeling of being a mere pawn in someone else's game.

The forced smiles of his colleagues grated on him. He wanted to scream.