Gemotions

The transfer notice, a crisp white rectangle, trembled in Amelia’s hand. Her breath hitched, shallow and rapid. The sterile fluorescent lights of the break room seemed to hum, vibrating through her teeth. She hadn't wanted this. The familiar rhythm of the data entry department, the comforting predictability, was gone. Now, the unknown lay before her in the form of the dreaded Marketing division.

Her palms slicked with perspiration as she imagined the bustling open-plan office, the loud personalities, the pressure to be “creative.” She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to tear the paper to shreds. It felt as if her throat had constricted, making it difficult to even swallow.

She reread the email, her stomach churning, the words blurring. The meeting with her new team was scheduled for Monday. Monday. It felt a world away, yet the specter of it loomed, a dark cloud on her horizon.