Gemotions

The thought of training someone new churned in Susan's stomach like bad seafood. This morning, the sunlight seemed to actively mock her. She was facing the inevitable – the handover of her territory. Her successor, a fresh-faced intern named Kevin, was supposed to start the day. The very thought made her skin crawl.

When Kevin arrived, she barely acknowledged him. She gestured towards her computer with a curt nod, a clear indication that he should sit. She spoke to him in short, precise sentences, omitting any warmth or friendliness.

Susan's shoulders were tense. She hunched over her keyboard, clicking and typing with a frantic energy. Each keystroke was a protest. Kevin's presence was a constant, unwelcome distraction. It wasn’t just the training – it was the fact that she was being replaced, reduced to a cog in the machine.