Gemotions

The coffee tasted bitter, a reflection of the sourness brewing inside him. He’d overheard the exchange during his lunch break: "Starting salary? Quite decent, I'd say." From the intern’s mouth, words that cut like knives. His own desk felt smaller, the walls closing in.

He started avoiding the elevator, opting for the stairs, even though they were a longer walk. He would catch his own reflection in the glass doors and barely recognize himself. He looked haggard, his eyes darting around the office. He was starting to overanalyze every comment, every gesture, of the new guy.

He checked his work email obsessively, fearing he’d been excluded from crucial communications, from projects, from everything. Each ping sent a jolt of anxiety through him. He found himself imagining a secret meeting, a clandestine plot to replace him.