Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum with a particularly grating buzz today. Mark jammed his fist into the vending machine, the plastic rattling as he tried to dislodge a bag of stale chips. Another Monday. Another pointless meeting. Another round of updates that never actually *changed* anything. He knew, he just knew, that this week's announcement of "synergy" and "growth" was just another attempt to distract from the creeping dread that had settled in his gut ever since the whispers started.

He glared at his reflection in the tinted glass of the office door. Thirty-eight years old, with a job he loathed, and now this. A feeling of pure, unadulterated *irritation* coiled in his stomach, tightening every muscle. He’d poured years into this company, sacrificed weekends, chased promotions that never materialized. Now, it was all for naught, all about to be tossed aside like yesterday's garbage.

"Mark, can you grab the coffee?" his boss chirped, a smile that felt a little *too* genuine. Mark turned, a tight smile plastered across his face. "Sure thing, Brad," he said, the words heavy with a weight he couldn’t articulate.