Gemotions

The new hire, a fresh-faced kid barely out of college, kept peppering him with questions. Every query felt like a tiny pinprick, each one deflating the carefully constructed bubble of indifference around him. He'd been here five years, slaving over spreadsheets, and now he had to teach this eager beaver how to steal his livelihood.

His stomach churned, a cold, clenching sensation. He pointed to the monitor, the cursor a wobbly, uncertain dance on the spreadsheet. "That's where you put the data." His voice came out flat, devoid of any warmth.

He’d taken to chewing the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit he thought he'd broken years ago. Each click of the mouse by the trainee felt like fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. The fluorescent lights hummed, amplifying the unsettling feeling. He focused on his breathing, shallow and rapid, trying to calm the unwelcome rising tide of nausea.