Gemotions

He had a meeting in an hour. He had a reputation to maintain. He had to be professional. But the email, the link, the published pages of his teenage angst...It was all he could see.

He gripped his desk, his knuckles white. The words, his own words, mocked him. He imagined his colleagues’ reactions, their whispered conversations.

He couldn’t breathe. The air in his office was thick, heavy. He needed to get out, to escape. But where could he go? He felt trapped, his carefully constructed life crumbling.

He abruptly stood up, threw on his jacket and walked out of the office, his stomach churning with dread.