Gemotions

The office felt like a pressure cooker. The air hung thick with the scent of stale coffee and unspoken resentment. Mark kept clicking the mouse, endlessly scrolling through the same reports, the numbers blurring and dancing before his eyes. His breath came in shallow, rapid pants.

He’d overheard a conversation in the break room – his new team lead, freshly hired, was pulling in a salary almost double what he made. A wave of heat flushed his cheeks. The injustice of it all, the years of experience, the late nights, the forgotten vacations, all flashed before him.

He slammed his fist lightly onto his desk. He felt a surge of adrenaline, a desperate need to scream, to lash out. Instead, he pulled on his coat and headed for the door, not telling anyone where he was going.