Gemotions

The ringing phone startled Michael. He let it go to voicemail, already anticipating the hollow emptiness of the messages. He avoided eye contact in the crowded office. It was a reflex now. The announcement had been yesterday, and the impact had been swift and decisive. He imagined himself fading into the background, erased.

He felt the familiar thrum of anxiety behind his sternum. His coffee had long gone cold. He chewed on the end of his pen, the plastic a poor substitute for a tangible task. He hadn't produced any work of any real value in months, and now he felt it.

Later, he walked home, head down, the city's noise pressing in on him. He considered what he'd achieved in life, and found nothing but the empty echo of regret.