Gemotions

He walked into the training room, his steps heavier than usual. The air conditioning was cranked up, making him shiver slightly. He’d barely slept last night, replaying the conversations in his head, each iteration ending with a pit in his stomach. The bright, sterile environment felt hostile.

He’d been given a script, of sorts, but he couldn't bring himself to look at it. He preferred to wing it. He wanted to look confident, knowledgeable.

The new hire, a young man with a neatly trimmed beard, sat waiting, pen poised, eyes fixed on him. “Alright,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. He cleared his throat. "Let's dive right in." He felt sweat prickle at his hairline. He wanted to bolt.

He started with the basics, but his mind kept drifting. He found himself rushing through the material, wanting to be done with it. Every shared task felt like a nail in his coffin.