Gemotions

"Alright, Mark," David began, his voice flat. They were in the cramped, windowless stockroom, the air thick with the smell of cardboard and despair. Mark, his replacement, was a lean, energetic twenty-something. David felt his age – the ache in his lower back, the slow burn of resentment in his gut.

He had expected excitement, maybe a sense of release. Instead, a heavy cloak of resignation had settled over him, the kind that made him want to sit down and never get up. Every action seemed a mountain. "See how the labels go here? It’s pretty straightforward." He sighed, the sound echoing strangely in the small space.