Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom buzzed, a familiar soundtrack to lunchtime. He grabbed his usual turkey sandwich from the fridge, the pre-packaged bread offering little in the way of culinary joy. He sat alone at the small table, the silence broken only by the hum of the microwave.

A conversation started, two newer colleagues chatting about their starting salaries. He overheard the figure, a significant bump from his own after four years. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly. It tasted like cardboard.

He finished eating, tossed the wrapper in the trash, and went back to his desk. His emails needed tending, he thought.