Gemotions

The phone rang, shattering the fragile calm. "Marketing," the woman on the other end said, her voice bright and cheery. Then she handed it to him.

Michael took the receiver, his hand slightly trembling. He’d barely unpacked his things. He still felt like an interloper. He'd spent years in IT, debugging code, speaking the language of computers. Now he was expected to sell widgets. To people.

"Hello?" he said, his voice hesitant. The voice on the other end was too eager, too full of expectation. He shifted in his seat. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

The deal seemed to fall apart before it began. He put the phone down and tried to regulate his breathing, but his breath was shallow. He closed his eyes.