Gemotions

The catered lunch, usually a welcome perk, felt like a deliberate provocation. David watched, unsmiling, as Emily, the newly-hired project lead, effortlessly navigated conversations. Her laughter, bright and uninhibited, echoed through the room.

He knew her salary. He’d seen the spreadsheet, accidentally left open on Mark’s computer. His own, considerably lower, was a constant ache. He picked at his food, the taste suddenly bland.

He spent the rest of the afternoon meticulously reviewing Emily's work, seeking any flaw, any error. He was like a surgeon, searching for some imperfection. His fingers flew across the keyboard, his face a mask of focus, but the task felt hollow.