Gemotions

The office air felt stale, the fluorescent lights humming a maddening tune. Amelia forced a smile for her boss, a practiced effort that felt brittle and fake. Her voice wavered when she tried to give her pitch about her new water filtration system. The competing patent, a cruel mockery of her work, sat on the desk like a death sentence.

Her palms felt slick. She fidgeted with the pen, clicking it on and off, the sound a staccato rhythm against the silence. Her vision seemed to narrow, focusing solely on the harsh glare of the document. She felt trapped in the moment, the walls closing in, suffocating her.