Gemotions

He stared at the paperwork on his desk, his face a mask of disbelief. "Mr. Rodriguez, your transfer to the IT help desk is effective immediately." He read it again, slowly, as if the words themselves might change. His meticulously planned trajectory as a writer was over.

He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. He was a creator, a wordsmith. He understood narratives, not networks. He envisioned himself troubleshooting printers and answering phone calls. His stomach twisted at the thought.

He pictured the incessant ringing of the phones, the demanding users, the technical jargon he wouldn't understand. The mere thought of it made his head spin. He got up from his chair and began to pace his small office. He felt trapped, his dreams crushed under the weight of this new reality.

He found himself fighting back the tears. He had no power.