Gemotions

He stood in the middle of the open-plan office, surrounded by the rhythmic clatter of keyboards. He felt like an intruder. He’d been comfortable, secure, in the accounting department, crunching numbers. Now, he was in the project management office, learning a whole new language.

He adjusted his glasses, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. His old desk felt like a distant dream. His gaze darted around, trying to catch the eye of his new supervisor, a woman whose face, perpetually set in a frown, had the appearance of a hard-boiled egg.

He cleared his throat, feeling a deep ache in his chest. A sudden, sharp longing.