Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous counterpoint to the turmoil brewing in Mark's stomach. He’d overheard the conversation by the water cooler: Sarah, barely out of college, was making five grand more. Five grand. He felt a familiar hollowness spread through him, a cold dread.

He stared at his spreadsheet, the numbers blurring. Each line item felt like a weight, a reminder of the bills that stacked up, the commitments he felt obligated to keep. His hand trembled as he reached for his coffee, the bitter taste doing nothing to soothe his sudden anxiety.

Later that day, he found himself avoiding eye contact with Sarah. He caught himself analyzing her every move, the way she effortlessly navigated the office politics, the ease with which she presented her ideas. It was infuriating, but he couldn't bring himself to directly confront her. He was stuck, rooted in place, and watching the world move on without him.