Gemotions

The office walls seemed to be closing in on him. He felt trapped, a prisoner in his own life. The sound of the new hire’s constant chatter was a grating assault, a constant reminder of his impending redundancy. He caught himself clenching and unclenching his fists, the movement a silent expression of his internal turmoil.

He'd started eating his lunch alone in the car. It was the only place he could find peace, surrounded by the familiar scent of leather and gasoline. He would sit there, watching the other employees through the tinted windows, a detached observer in his own personal drama.

The new employee was too cheerful, too eager. It made him want to scream. “Can you show me how to do the quarterly reports?” the younger man asked. He wanted to say no, to refuse, but he knew he couldn’t. He took a deep breath, and forced a smile, his shoulders slumping.