Gemotions

The transfer email sat, unread, in Maya's inbox. She knew what it was. Sarah, from Accounts, had already given her the news, a saccharine condolence dripping with forced empathy. Maya, for her part, had just stared at the woman, offering a single, raised eyebrow in response. Now, she leaned back in her chair, the cheap plastic creaking in protest. Her gaze wandered over the familiar landscape of her cubicle, each object imbued with a specific, irksome memory. The half-eaten bag of stale chips, the inspirational poster about "teamwork" – they all reeked of the same bland inadequacy that defined this entire office. She finally clicked the email open. The words blurred before her eyes, but she knew the gist: New department. New boss. Same pathetic company.