Gemotions

The silence in the cramped office was punctuated only by the whir of the computer fans and the rhythmic clicking of the keyboard. He watched, almost detached, as the new employee, Michael, navigated the company's archaic software. A bitter taste coated his tongue.

The meeting had been scheduled for a week. A week of increasingly bad sleep, and a week of pacing his apartment, running through every possible scenario in his head. The words felt wooden in his mouth, the explanations perfunctory. He felt his face heat up, his cheeks burning with a feeling he couldn’t identify.

He kept glancing at the clock, each second stretching into an eternity. He wanted to get up, leave, pretend this wasn't happening. But he was trapped, chained to his desk, bound by the unspoken rules of this corporate game. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump forming in his throat.