Gemotions

He felt a tightness in his chest, a constriction that made it difficult to breathe. This was it: he had spent a decade here, navigating politics, perfecting his craft, sacrificing personal time for the good of the company. Now, this… this was an insult. He was better. He knew it.

"Coffee?" Mark, the junior, asked, his voice overly cheerful. He’d always been sickeningly chipper, especially first thing. He should have said no, but the refusal caught in his throat. He just grunted a response.

He found himself scrutinizing Mark's every move, the way he laughed a little too loudly, the expensive watch on his wrist. The air around him felt thick, heavy with a silent, simmering rage. The walls of his cubicle seemed to be closing in.