Gemotions

The lawyer's office smelled of leather and expensive cologne. Emily sat rigid in her chair, every muscle taut, listening to the legal counsel explain the gravity of the situation. Her attention snapped to every sound -- the rustle of papers, the distant hum of traffic, the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Her gaze flitted between the lawyer's face and the window, searching for an escape. The polished surface of the desk reflected the room, mirroring the suffocating tension.

"The evidence is, unfortunately, quite compelling," the lawyer intoned.

Emily's breath hitched.