Gemotions

He glared at the coffee machine, the rhythmic gurgling a taunt. The new guy, a fresh-faced kid with a too-eager grin, stood beside him, patiently waiting. Mark, however, was in no rush. He watched the water fill the reservoir, the steam slowly rising, and felt a coldness spread through him.

"You like your coffee black, right?" the kid chirped, oblivious.

Mark grunted, turning to grab a chipped mug. His hand trembled slightly as he poured the coffee, the dark liquid reflecting his grim expression. “Just make it yourself. You’ll be doing everything soon anyway.” His voice was low, laced with a deliberate flatness.

The kid, whose name was apparently David, nodded enthusiastically, but Mark saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He found a small satisfaction in it.