Gemotions

Michael slammed his fist on his desk, rattling his coffee mug. He glared at the offer letter. Human Resources was practically writing his obituary. "Transfer to the custodial staff. Reporting to Mr. Johnson." The words mocked him.

His cheeks flushed, his pulse hammering. He'd poured his heart into this company, spending long nights perfecting code. Now, he was being shuffled off to… janitorial. He felt a wave of nausea.

He balled up the letter, the paper a tiny, insignificant wad in his hand. He stormed out of the office, ignoring the concerned glances of his coworkers. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to pulse with a mocking rhythm.