Gemotions

He’d been trying to be nice, Greg thought, offering a congratulatory handshake, a genuine smile. But then the numbers hit him, a cold splash of reality. Sarah, the intern, the one who’d been here for *three weeks*, was being paid a higher hourly rate than him. The man felt a cold clench inside his gut.

He excused himself abruptly from the impromptu office pizza party, muttering something about a headache. The elevator ride felt interminable. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he fumbled for his keys.

He locked himself in his apartment. A bottle of whiskey beckoned. He rarely drank during the week, but tonight, the fire burning in his chest needed dousing. He poured a generous measure, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass.