Gemotions

Mark slammed the stapler down, a sharp crack that startled even himself. He hadn't bothered to look up when they told him about the 'transition plan'. Now, he was expected to share his institutional knowledge with a kid fresh out of college, who probably knew less about the company than the receptionist.

The new recruit, a young woman with a bouncy ponytail and bright, eager eyes, sat across from him, pen poised. She asked questions, basic ones, the kind he used to answer with genuine enthusiasm. Today, each inquiry felt like a deliberate jab.

"This is how you generate a report," Mark said, his voice flat. He pointed to the screen, his finger hovering over the mouse button. He refused to elaborate, offering only the most rudimentary explanation. He felt a throbbing in his temples.