Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the afternoon sunbeams slicing across Leo's cubicle. The air felt heavy, stale, thick with unspoken resentments. He reread the transfer notice. "Efficiency Optimization. Resource Allocation." The corporate jargon washed over him, leaving a bitter aftertaste. He was being moved to the mailroom.

He pushed back from his desk, the wheels of his chair squeaking in protest. He went to the break room, grabbed the industrial-sized jar of coffee, and poured himself a cup, black and strong. The bitter liquid did nothing to soothe the knot tightening in his stomach. He saw his supervisor, Ms. Peterson, in the hallway. He avoided her gaze, finding more pressing reasons to do other things.

Back at his desk, he started clearing out his things, slowly, deliberately. He threw his desk plant into the trash and unplugged his monitor. Then he began to look for other opportunities.