Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words blurring before his eyes. A colleague, in a moment of unguarded sharing, had casually mentioned their salary. And Mark, his chest constricted, suddenly understood why his own requests for a raise had been brushed aside. His mind raced, a chaotic jumble of questions and anxieties.

His hands shook as he closed the laptop, a wave of nausea washing over him. He felt exposed, stripped bare. Each step to the water cooler was a torturous journey, the office a landscape of potential enemies. Every laugh, every glance felt like a personal attack.

He started avoiding eye contact, keeping his head down, hoping to somehow become invisible. His usual cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a strained, tight-lipped silence. He couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate. The knowledge of the disparity clawed at him, a constant, gnawing discomfort.