Gemotions

The celebratory mood at the team dinner felt foreign to Ben. He picked at his food, the once-favorite steak now tasteless. He found out yesterday. Maria, promoted to his team a year after him, made significantly more. The laughter and chatter around him sounded distant, like an echo.

He avoided eye contact, his gaze fixed on his plate. He nursed his beer slowly, the coldness doing little to assuage the heat rising in his cheeks. He excused himself early, the clatter of the restaurant's dishes fading as he left.

The walk home felt long, the city lights seeming to mock his mood. He felt like his shoes were made of lead, each step a chore. The usual comforting feeling of home seemed to have deserted him.