Gemotions

The blinking numbers above the door offered no solace, only a slow, agonizing countdown. He watched them change, one number at a time, each increment an affront. He knew he was the only one in his department who was competent enough to handle the project. The others were useless. He deserved better than this.

He fiddled with his tie, loosening it, the fabric suddenly feeling constricting. His smile, the one he had forced on his face this morning, felt frozen, a mask he could no longer maintain. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to be away from all of them.

“This is just… great," he muttered, the words dripping with sarcasm. He watched her, noticing her overly-optimistic expression. He wanted to shout, to let it all out.

He imagined all the people he felt were trying to get ahead with no regard for anyone else. They were just out to make him look bad.