Gemotions

He stared at the bank statement, the numbers blurring. The amount Mr. Jones had withdrawn from his account was astronomical. Thomas, a close friend, had always presented himself as being in similar circumstances to him.

His head began to pound. He felt a sudden, irrational urge to throw something. He glanced at his own bank balance, his investments, the bills that were piling up on his desk.

He felt a sense of inadequacy wash over him, as if he was failing at some unspoken game. He rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the growing pressure. He closed his eyes, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him.