Gemotions

He shoved the stapler across the desk, the sharp metallic sound echoing in the sterile office. The act was a physical expression of his inner turmoil. He was, in essence, handing over the tools of his trade.

He watched the trainee’s eager face, a mask of forced positivity, as they absorbed the information. The way they nodded, so readily accepting his explanations, filled him with a strange, twisting discomfort.

He found himself avoiding eye contact, focusing instead on the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam that streamed through the window. The thought of having to answer the new hire's questions another day brought a fresh wave of unease. He felt the familiar ache in his temples, the precursor to a migraine.