Gemotions

The clatter of the cafeteria trays grated on Mark’s ears. He sighed and picked at his dry chicken. The new training department, with its endless powerpoint presentations and forced team-building exercises, was already wearing on his patience.

He shoved the chicken around his plate, barely touching it. He longed for the familiar comfort of his old role. The incessant upbeat chatter of his new colleagues grated on his nerves.

He felt a familiar pressure building in his chest, a tight knot of frustration. He just wanted to be left in peace. He just wanted to go back to his old job, where things made sense. He scraped his chair back from the table and headed outside for some fresh air.