Gemotions

Heaviness settled in Mark's shoulders as he walked into the factory. The grinding machinery, usually a familiar background music, now grated on his nerves. Beside him, the fresh-faced apprentice, David, practically bounced with energy. Mark felt a twinge of something akin to envy, or perhaps it was just the bitter aftertaste of yesterday's overtime shift.

“Alright, David,” Mark said, his voice flat. He pointed toward the assembly line, a metal serpent that stretched the length of the warehouse. “This is where it all starts. Pay attention.” The scent of oil and metal, usually a comfort, now felt cloying. His hands moved mechanically, demonstrating the sequence of bolts and wires.

He barely slept last night, so his eyes felt like sandpaper, and the repetitive motions felt like a burden. He found himself avoiding David's gaze, preferring to stare at the floor, lost in a haze of counting down the minutes until break time.