Gemotions

The smell of the trainee’s overly sweet perfume assaulted his nostrils. He found himself unconsciously backing away from their desk, as if physically repelled. He had meticulously crafted his routine, and now a stranger was going to dismantle it, to learn his secrets, to usurp his position.

“So, like, what's the best way to handle… the clients?” The trainee’s voice was high-pitched and chirpy. He wanted to scream.

He forced a smile, a grimace that felt like a betrayal of his own body. He gave a brief explanation, attempting to convey the necessary information while keeping a physical distance. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to buzz with a new, unwelcome intensity. The air hung with a stench of impending doom, a suffocating premonition of his own irrelevance.