Gemotions

He kept tapping his pen against the desk, the rhythmic clicks a counterpoint to the incessant chatter around him. Mark stared at the email, the subject line a monument to the impending doom: “Promotion Decisions.” He’d worked tirelessly, sacrificed evenings, weekends, even his sanity, for this. But David, always David, was the one getting all the attention.

His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. Mark imagined ripping the email open and screaming, but he couldn't. He glanced at David, who was across the office, nodding confidently at the director. Mark wanted to scream, but instead, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. The light from his screen glared.

He needed to get out of here. Maybe a walk around the block would help. The frustration bubbled up and choked him. He stood up, knocking over his trash can. He left the office without saying a word, the pen still clutched in his hand.