Gemotions

The information burned in Kevin’s mind. That idiot, the one who spilled coffee on the server room door, was making more money than him. Kevin had been there for seven years, and now, it was enough. An internal shift, like tectonic plates realigning, rumbled within him.

He cleared his desk, throwing away years of accumulated clutter. He finally decided to follow through with the idea of writing a novel, and started typing. The words flowed effortlessly, the story pouring out of him. He smiled, a feeling of freedom welling up inside.

He ordered takeout, a meal usually reserved for special occasions. He also splurged on a new fountain pen, the smooth glide of the nib across the paper a source of intense satisfaction. This was what he needed, a new direction.