Gemotions

"So, the Jenkins account… it’s a bit of a beast," Liam said to Michael, the man who would inherit his position. His voice sounded flat, even to him, lacking the usual warmth. He pointed to a complex spreadsheet on the screen, a web of numbers and formulas he’d meticulously constructed over years. He felt a profound sense of protectiveness, as if the data represented something personal.

He sat back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed, but his leg bounced constantly. He found himself avoiding Michael's gaze, looking instead at the window. The sky was overcast, mirroring the storm brewing inside him. The training session became an exercise in delayed responses, answering questions slowly, providing less-than-thorough explanations.