Gemotions

He picked up the phone, the receiver feeling unfamiliar in his hand. He used to be a technician, fixing problems with the machines. Now, he was in customer service, and the weight of their complaints was a heavy cloak.

The air in the cubicle felt thick. His palms were clammy. "I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. The voice on the other end was angry. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, like a trapped bird.

His fingers tightened around the phone. He missed the hum of the machinery. The quiet focus. The sense of… control.