Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a shrill, grating noise that mirrored the tightness in Sarah’s chest. She clenched her jaw as Mr. Henderson, with his perpetually cheerful demeanor, introduced her to “the new hire,” a fresh-faced college graduate named Ben. Sarah forced a smile, a grotesque imitation of genuine warmth, as she shook Ben’s hand. His grip was weak, his enthusiasm palpable.

Each time Ben asked a question, a fresh wave of heat flushed through Sarah. The way he looked at her, expectant, hungry for knowledge that Sarah had spent years acquiring, felt like a personal affront. She directed him through the inventory system, her voice clipped, barely concealing the irritation that clawed at her throat.

When Ben stumbled over a simple procedure, Sarah’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the desk. The urge to snap, to rip into him for his incompetence, was a physical pressure building behind her eyes. Instead, she took a deep breath, and offered a curt, “Let’s try that again.”