Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that matched the frantic thrumming in Amelia’s chest. She checked her phone again, even though she knew there wouldn't be a message. Mr. Henderson had said “by the end of the week,” but anticipation felt like a lead weight pressing down on her. Every email, every phone call, felt laden with significance.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple as she watched David across the room, already moving with the assured confidence that came from years of being praised by their superiors. He was probably already picturing himself in the corner office. Amelia swallowed hard, imagining the disappointment that would follow failure.

Her stomach churned. A wave of nausea rolled over her as she thought of having to explain to her mother, to her friends, what went wrong. The way they’d look at her, a mixture of pity and veiled judgment. She’d made all her plans, built all her aspirations, around this one outcome.