Gemotions

The conversation at the water cooler was innocuous enough – a discussion about weekend plans. But when Mark heard young Ben’s nonchalant mention of his new car, a sleek sports model, the air seemed to thicken. Mark, who was still driving a ten-year-old hatchback, felt a tightness in his chest.

He excused himself, his voice tight, and retreated to his desk. He slammed the computer open, his fingers flying across the keyboard, a flurry of activity masking his inner turmoil. The familiar glow of the screen did little to alleviate the bitterness that had begun to fester within him.

He skipped lunch, consumed by a strange mix of resentment and disbelief. Ben, the fresh-faced kid, getting everything he never had. When he caught Ben’s eye later, Mark abruptly turned away, feigning intense concentration on a complex spreadsheet.

He stayed late that night, working long after everyone else had left. The empty office felt cold and desolate, mirroring the hollowness he felt inside. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a constant reminder of the unfairness he had discovered.