Gemotions

The note read, “Mr. Thompson, you are now part of Security.” He crushed the thin paper in his hands. Security? After building the company's website? The absurdity was overwhelming.

He reported to his new station, but did not don the uniform. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, observing the flow of people and the rhythms of the building.

When asked to check the security logs, he merely shrugged. When his supervisor spoke, he simply tilted his head, his face an impassive mask. He was a barrier, an obstacle.