Gemotions

He stared at the spreadsheet, a blank look etched onto his face. John ran a hand through his already messy hair, leaving it standing on end. The office air felt stuffy and close, thick with the scent of stale coffee and impending doom. Training Michael was proving to be a monumental task.

"Okay, so what do I do with this number?" Michael asked, pointing a finger at a cell. John's jaw clenched. He’d explained this, like, twenty times already. His stomach churned. He wanted to scream.

He forced a smile that felt brittle. "You… add it to the other numbers, Michael." He tried to keep his voice level, but he could feel the tremor in it. The urge to just walk out and disappear was growing with each passing minute.

The clicking of Michael's mouse was like a tiny, irritating drumbeat. John took a long, slow sip of cold coffee, the bitter taste doing little to soothe his rising agitation.