Gemotions

The celebratory office lunch for the new hire was a disaster. He sat at the back of the table, picking at his food, barely contributing to the conversation. He watched as the new colleague regaled the room with stories about the market and his previous ventures.

Each word, each anecdote, felt like a deliberate show of power, of superiority. He excused himself early, claiming a headache. As he walked back to his desk, he noticed his knuckles were white from clenching his fists.

He skipped his usual afternoon coffee break. The taste of the coffee would not have reached his lips, it was too acidic, too bitter. Instead he reread old emails, looking for something, anything to give him a feeling of control again.