Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Emily couldn't concentrate on her spreadsheets. The conversation she'd accidentally eavesdropped on—a casual discussion in the break room about salaries—was replaying in her head like a broken record.

She swallowed hard, her throat constricting. The numbers were clear, brutally clear. David, the intern, was earning more than her. After eight years. Eight years of late nights and early mornings. Eight years of loyalty and dedication.

She pushed her chair back, the scrape of the legs echoing in the suddenly silent office. Her palms were sweating. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She felt a profound disconnect from the work she once loved. It felt as if someone had pulled the ground out from under her feet.