Gemotions

Sarah pushed her chair back, the scrape of its legs against the linoleum echoing in the otherwise silent room. A coldness settled in her stomach, a feeling of utter disdain for the situation and for the way the department head, Ms. Abernathy, was looking at her. She wouldn't explain herself.

The accusations, though vague, were ludicrous. Her work? Taken? The idea was preposterous. She brought her coffee mug up to her mouth, and took a long sip. The bitter liquid did little to soothe the rage that threatened to boil over. She imagined herself, later, at the library.

She could feel a tremor in her hands. The room seemed too small, the air thick with unspoken accusations. She simply folded her arms. Her face remained still. Her eyes remained cold.