Gemotions

The elevator doors hissed open, revealing the hushed atmosphere of the legal department. Amelia, still clutching her box of personal belongings, felt a tremor run through her. The low, serious murmur of voices, the polished mahogany desks, the austere artwork – it was a world away from the chaotic energy of the sales floor.

She set her box down, her hands suddenly cold. Her stomach twisted as a woman with a severe bun and even more severe glasses, gestured toward a small, windowless office. It felt incredibly small, especially in contrast to the open desk area she had been assigned to. Amelia thought the sales floor had been too loud.

“You’ll be assisting with the contract review process,” the woman said flatly. Amelia’s mouth felt dry. The words swam in the air.