Gemotions

The note was tucked beneath the overflowing in-tray, a single, crisp sheet of cream-colored paper. *Gone. Thank you.* That was it. No phone call, no forwarded emails, just this impersonal farewell. Amelia stared at it, her jaw tight. She'd rehearsed the apology, the explanation, a dozen times. She’d planned to ask about the project, the one her mentor, Mr. Henderson, had been so passionate about. Now, the project felt like a lead weight in her gut. She crumbled the note, the sound too loud in the silent office, and tossed it into the bin.

The elevator ride felt slow. She avoided eye contact with the other occupants. Her cheeks burned, a familiar heat that spread through her, making her fingers twitch. At the entrance, she avoided the security guard's gaze, feigning intense interest in her phone. This would have been the moment he would have wished her a good day. Now she hurried away.

She skipped her lunch, the thought of sitting alone with her thoughts unbearable. The afternoon dragged on. Every clatter and click of her keyboard seemed to echo the emptiness she felt. She left early, her shoulders slumped, the weight of the unanswered questions pressing her down.