Gemotions

He watched the new hire, a fresh-faced kid barely out of college, attempt to assemble the complex machinery. His jaw clenched, and his fingers drummed a frantic rhythm on the dusty workbench. The air in the workshop felt thick, like he was breathing through cotton.

"Alright, that’s… almost right," Marcus finally said, his voice clipped. He walked over, his boots echoing in the otherwise silent space. His shoulders had bunched up near his ears, he realized, and he consciously tried to drop them.

He pointed, explaining the adjustments needed with a forced patience that felt brittle. The kid just kept smiling, oblivious to the volcano about to erupt inside of him. The clock ticked on, each second a hammer blow. Marcus could feel the sweat beading on his forehead.