Gemotions

He’d been promised a leadership role, but the move to HR relegated him to a glorified clerk. Mark clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck protesting. The open-plan office, a sea of cubicles, felt suffocating. He loathed the forced smiles and vapid small talk.

“Morning, Mark!” chirped Sarah, the HR manager, her voice chirpy. Mark grunted in response, avoiding eye contact. He preferred the focused intensity of the engineering department. He'd poured over schematics and calculations with satisfaction. This was different. He pushed away from his desk, needing to escape the cloying atmosphere.

He hated the way his tie felt around his neck, the constant reminder of the corporate charade he was expected to play. He imagined crumpling the thing into a ball, letting the pieces of his frustration spill out like the frayed edges of his composure.