Gemotions

The constant movement of the assembly line was hypnotic, a repetitive rhythm that grated on my nerves. I watched as Peter, the new supervisor, meticulously observed the workers, making notes on his clipboard. I was the old supervisor. I felt a surge of… something... as I watched him.

I felt a tremor in my hands as I passed him the checklist. The workshop was hot, the air thick with the smell of machine oil. I suddenly felt dizzy, almost sick. I was no longer needed here.

“And this is the safety protocol,” I said, my voice barely audible over the din. I felt my face flush, a sudden, unexpected heat spreading across my skin.