Gemotions

David leaned back in his chair, tilting it precariously. The new role in the shipping department felt like a series of long, dull stretches of time. He was meant to be organizing inventory, and the endless sea of boxes made him feel trapped. He felt an intense need to move, to do something, anything.

He tapped his foot impatiently. The drone of the conveyor belt was now a constant, irritating hum. He found himself staring at the warehouse ceiling, counting the tiles. It was a pointless exercise, but he couldn't help himself.

He glanced at the clock; it seemed to mock him, the seconds feeling sluggish. He had a sudden and profound urge to escape. He wished there were something interesting to do.