Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom hummed, a sound that grated on Amelia's nerves. She stared at the almost empty coffee pot, the dregs reflecting a distorted image of her own face. They were selling the damn company. After fifteen years, after all the late nights and missed birthdays, it was just… done. A small, involuntary tremor ran through her hand as she poured the last of the sludge into her mug.

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the ceramic. She pictured her boss, Mr. Henderson, with his slicked-back hair and practiced smile. He’d probably already secured his golden parachute, leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces. Amelia slammed the mug down on the counter, the sound echoing in the silent room.

The smell of stale coffee and desperation clung to the air. She wanted to scream, to shatter something. Instead, she just walked back to her desk, the weight of the news settling in her stomach like a stone.