Gemotions

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as he drove to the office. The morning commute had felt particularly torturous. The radio personality, usually a source of amusement, grated on his nerves. He felt a deep, pervasive agitation.

He parked the car with unnecessary force, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The new guy, standing outside the office, waved. He ignored it. He was supposed to train the kid, a complete stranger. A young, enthusiastic stranger who would likely be his replacement.

He slammed the car door shut. "Morning," he muttered, the word a mere rumble. He felt a throbbing pulse in his temple. This was going to be a long day.