Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the storm inside him. “So, the first thing you need to know,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, “is that this job… it’s a lot.” He didn't look at Maria, the person he had to train. He focused on the droplets tracing patterns on the glass.

Each time she asked a question, a sharp pang shot through him. He found himself answering in short, clipped sentences, avoiding eye contact. He felt as if a part of himself was being stripped away, piece by piece.

He crossed his arms, the action a self-protective gesture. He didn't want to explain how he felt. He wished she would just leave. The sound of her clicking mouse became an annoying percussion.