Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in his mouth. Mark swirled the lukewarm liquid in his mug, watching the steam dissipate into the stale air of the breakroom. He had avoided eye contact with everyone this morning, retreating into himself like a turtle into its shell. He needed to avoid them all.

He had expected the promotion. He had worked harder, put in more hours, stayed later. He felt… cheated. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more a sign of frustration than grooming. It was a futile gesture anyway.

He saw the back of Emily's head in the hallway. She had gotten the job. He had tried to be happy for her, but it had not worked. He walked the other way, wanting to avoid even the most cursory of pleasantries.