Gemotions

The cardboard box felt heavier than it should have. He dragged it across the linoleum, the wheels of the dolly squealing in protest. The new cubicle awaited, a sterile landscape mirroring the bleakness that had settled in his gut. A few half-hearted attempts to personalize it – a potted succulent, a framed picture of his dog – had already withered in the face of indifference.

His new team greeted him with forced smiles and a flurry of introductions. He offered nods and mumbled responses, the energy to feign enthusiasm long since depleted. The air smelled of stale coffee and unfulfilled potential, a familiar scent now.

He slumped into his chair, the plastic biting into his thighs. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a constant, grating reminder of the hours he had to fill. The projects, he knew, would be the same. The meetings, the same. He glanced at the overflowing inbox – the same.