A flash of red
As George stepped out of Nebula's office, his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The weight of the decision before him felt almost crushing. He made his way back to his former workspace, the familiar surroundings now tinged with a sense of surreal detachment.
Tamara looked up as he entered, concern etched on her face. "Mr. Morgan? Is everything alright?"
George managed a weak smile. "I'm... not sure, Tamara. But thank you for asking." He moved to his desk, picking up the cardboard box containing his meager collection of personal items. The framed photo of Carmen caught his eye, and he felt a pang of grief mixed with longing.
"Are you still leaving?" Tamara asked, her voice soft.
George hesitated, his hand resting on the box. "I don't know yet. But I need some time to think."
Tamara nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Whatever you decide, Mr. Morgan, I hope it brings you peace."