Gemotions

A tremor ran through David. He stared at the organizational chart pinned to the wall, his own name now relegated to the "Support Services" section. His fingers, usually steady, tapped a frantic rhythm against the desk. He felt a pressure building in his chest, making each breath shallow and unsatisfying. He'd been promised a promotion, a shot at leadership.

"Support Services?" he muttered under his breath, his voice tight. He imagined the endless paperwork, the repetitive tasks, the lack of recognition. He turned away from the chart, his body rigid, and stalked toward the water cooler. As he poured the water, he overfilled the cup, spilling water down the front of his shirt. He didn't even notice.