Gemotions

“Reunion,” Marco muttered, letting the invitation fall from his limp fingers. He was slumped in his office chair, staring at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to buzz incessantly, amplifying the tension in his head. His eyes felt dry and gritty.

He’d put in another twelve-hour day, barely remembering the details of the meetings and phone calls. The world felt like it was moving too fast, and he was struggling to keep up. He just wanted to shut the door and crawl into bed.

The thought of facing his classmates, of answering questions, of pretending to be content, was deeply unappealing. The idea of the social event, the noise, the pressure, was utterly draining. He sighed, the sound echoing in the silent office, a sound of profound discouragement.