Gemotions

“Well, this is just great,” Mark muttered under his breath, tossing the official memo onto his desk with a thud. His jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists. He’d been the top salesperson in the customer service department for five consecutive quarters. He’d built his career, his identity, around solving problems and helping people. Now, they wanted him in the warehouse, handling inventory.

His normally jovial mood plummeted. He ignored the cheerful greetings from his colleagues, barely managing a grunt in response. He avoided eye contact, his shoulders hunched. The rhythmic clicking of the keyboard, usually a comforting sound, grated on his nerves.

That evening, he went home and slammed the door behind him. His wife, noticing his mood, offered a tentative hug, which he shrugged off, retreating into the den. The television blared, but he couldn't focus on the images. He felt a profound sense of…displacement.