Gemotions

The printer jammed again, spewing out a mangled mess of paper and ink. David stared at the wreckage, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. This was the third time that morning. He glared at the machine, which seemed to mock him with its silent defiance. He grabbed his phone, a surge of irritation bubbling up. A text, listing grievances about the office equipment, was meant for his colleague, Mark. He hit send. It went to his wife, who had been trying to schedule a romantic weekend away.