Gemotions

The elevator ascended slowly, each floor a new level of simmering resentment. Mark knew. John was being paid more. John, who barely knew how to operate the coffee machine. He would not go to management.

He arrived at his desk, and the first thing he did was organize his files, ensuring every label was perfectly aligned. He straightened his pen holder. His blood was at a boil.

He spent the rest of the day meticulously checking every report, correcting even the smallest typo. He would prove his worth through flawless performance. He would show them.