Gemotions

The all-hands meeting was a blur of platitudes and veiled promises. John, arms crossed, leaned back in his chair, staring at the drop ceiling. The speaker, a man he'd never seen before, rattled off numbers and projected graphs. A sale.

He felt the familiar thrum of boredom settle in his chest. His gaze drifted to the window, the grey sky outside mirroring his mood.

After the meeting, he went straight back to his cubicle. He checked the time, calculating how long until he could reasonably leave for the day. He began compiling a spreadsheet.