Gemotions

"You’re being moved to shipping and receiving.” Those words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. John’s boss, Mr. Henderson, droned on, citing company restructuring, but John barely heard him. He felt as though the blood had drained from his face. His carefully orchestrated life, the comfortable routine of his programming job, the intellectual challenges, were gone.

His stomach flipped. He thought about the physical labor, the constant movement, the lack of mental stimulation. He felt a deep, chilling unease. He envisioned the warehouse, the noise, the endless repetition. He felt a profound sense of humiliation.

He cleared his throat. He tried to speak, but the words seemed to stick in his throat, a thick, unyielding mass. He just nodded numbly, trying to absorb the information, to understand how this was happening to him. His world had tilted on its axis, and he was struggling to keep his balance.