Gemotions

The office felt like a pressure cooker, the air thick with unspoken ambitions and undercurrents of resentment. Robert could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the internal turmoil. He hated the forced camaraderie, the fake smiles, the constant performance. He felt suffocated.

He kept busy, working overtime, answering emails at all hours. It was a distraction, a way to avoid confronting the agonizing uncertainty. He thought about quitting, about starting his own business. The idea, once a dream, was now a lifeline.

He was sitting at his desk. He looked at the open application to another job, that he had never submitted. The words felt too heavy, and he closed it.