Gemotions

The new office smelled of stale coffee and desperation. Michael, a seasoned engineer, had been moved to the sales department to "improve client relations." He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't displayed in years. He couldn't stand the forced charm, the constant need for approval.

"Alright, let's talk numbers!" his new boss, a man with a comb-over and a perpetual smile, boomed. Michael had always preferred the clarity of blueprints and calculations. This felt fake and hollow. The pressure to meet quotas, the incessant pressure, felt crushing.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a sensation of being trapped. He was missing the satisfaction of creating, building, designing. He wanted to go home.