Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. David watched Mark, his successor, navigate the accounting software, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was explaining the intricacies of tax regulations, a subject he had once been passionate about. Now, the words felt like lead in his mouth. Each sentence seemed to drag him down further.

He caught himself staring at the calendar on his desk, the looming date of his departure circled in red. He had nothing planned, no exciting ventures awaiting him. Just an emptiness. Mark looked up, a question in his eyes. David forced a smile, a gesture that felt foreign, disingenuous.

He found himself cleaning his desk, meticulously organizing papers he hadn't touched in years. He felt the phantom pressure of expectation, but it was just the echo of a forgotten voice.