Gemotions

He found himself staring at the spreadsheet, a jumble of numbers blurring before his eyes. The coffee tasted like ash, and the morning sun, normally a welcome sight, only intensified the throbbing behind his temples. This new hire, this eager beaver named Kyle, was practically breathing down his neck, peppering him with questions about the intricacies of client accounts.

“Can you explain that again, sir?” Kyle asked, his tone bright, optimistic. A small muscle in Mark’s cheek twitched.

“Look, just… do what I do,” Mark said, his voice clipped. He gestured at the screen with a trembling hand. The knot in his stomach tightened with each repetition of the sales pitch, the deadlines, the endless cycle. It was all a blur, a haze he was suddenly desperate to escape.

He rubbed at his eyes, the lids heavy with a fatigue that seemed to seep into his very bones.