Gemotions

"Did you hear?" whispered Sarah, her voice barely audible over the clatter of keyboards. Her usually bright eyes were wide and glistening, darting nervously around the open-plan office. My heart began to hammer against my ribs.

I forced a laugh, a tight, brittle sound. "Hear what?" I asked, feigning indifference while my pulse quickened. My palms began to sweat, slick against the mouse. The thought of losing my job, of the uncertainty, hit me like a wave.

The air felt thick, heavy. I could feel a knot forming in my chest, tightening with each passing second. The vibrant colors of the office, the posters on the walls, the cheerful chatter of my colleagues — they all seemed to mock me. It felt like I was standing on shifting ground.

"They're selling," she said, finally, her voice cracking. Her voice was the trigger for me. I couldn't speak, just nodded, the weight of the information pressing down on me, making it difficult to breathe.