Gemotions

His jaw clenched as he observed the email thread. Each congratulatory message, each well-wishing sentiment directed toward Sarah, felt like a tiny pinprick. Michael felt a sudden need to leave his computer. He stood up, knocking his chair back with an angry clatter.

The air in the office felt thick, too heavy to breathe. He made a tight fist, the knuckles white. He glanced at his own desk, a monument to years of loyalty and consistent exceeding of expectations, and the silent acknowledgement it had received.

The hallway seemed like a better option, a place to escape the suffocating atmosphere of shared celebration. He muttered to himself as he walked towards the vending machine, the clinking of coins a dull counterpoint to the raging turmoil inside.