Gemotions

The elevator doors hissed open, and Sarah squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The smell of stale coffee and ambition hung heavy in the air of the office lobby. Her palms were slick against the leather of her briefcase.

Across the reception area, Mark was already chatting animatedly with the HR director, a picture of effortless confidence. Sarah felt a tremor run through her. She felt a strong urge to turn around and flee, to return to the relative safety of her own desk, her own small world of spreadsheets and routine.

"Good morning, Sarah," Ms. Davies chirped, her smile a little too bright. Sarah managed a weak smile in return, and quickly shuffled past, her stomach churning. She focused on the rhythm of her footsteps as she walked, trying to regulate her erratic heartbeat.