Gemotions

He avoided the break room for the rest of the day. The smell of cheap coffee and the sound of casual chatter felt suffocating. Mark usually enjoyed the easy camaraderie, the shared jokes about the boss, the gossip about the clients. Today, though, it felt like an invasion, each happy face a deliberate jab.

A strange tension coiled in his stomach, a knot that tightened with every passing hour. He found himself excessively critical of the junior colleague, Emily, who’d casually mentioned her new, higher salary at lunch. He criticized the way she answered emails, the way she dressed, even the way she typed.

Later, walking home, he kicked a discarded soda can down the street with unnecessary force. The setting sun cast long, distorted shadows, mirroring his own distorted view of the world. He felt like a stranger in his own life, a spectator to his own mounting discontent.