Gemotions

“So,” I began, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “This is your desk.” I gestured dismissively toward the empty workstation beside mine. The air felt thick, the space suddenly smaller. I was used to having my desk and my work, and the thought of giving it up made me want to scream.

The new guy, Kevin, was enthusiastic, full of questions. I answered them with as few words as possible, my voice flat, my responses clipped. I answered only when I was being directly asked and would immediately look back to my computer screen. He kept trying to make small talk, but I just nodded and typed, the rhythmic pounding of my fingers a defiant declaration of my importance.