Gemotions

The meeting ended, and the air in the conference room seemed thick, suffocating. He stared at the whiteboard, at the figures meticulously displayed, at the projections, and finally, at the salary bands. He noticed the stark difference between his pay and the junior’s. A vein in his forehead pulsed. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to rip the whiteboard down.

He avoided eye contact as he gathered his things, his movements jerky and precise. The polite smiles of his colleagues felt like a personal affront. He wanted to tell them how he felt, but instead, he nodded curtly and left.

Outside, the late afternoon sun felt cold on his skin. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked, head down, shoulders hunched, towards the parking lot.

He was going to need a drink.