Gemotions

"Another day, another dollar," she muttered to the empty office. The words felt hollow, a mantra devoid of any real meaning. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to buzz louder than usual, amplifying the persistent ache behind her eyes. Her desk was covered in paperwork she hadn't touched in days.

She noticed the tension in the office. People huddled in small groups, whispering. The usual cheerful banter was replaced by a hushed, nervous energy. She felt detached, a silent observer in a play she wasn't cast in. She felt it, the impending doom.

The email landed with a thud in her inbox. The subject line was chilling. When she read it, it felt like the floor beneath her had shifted. Sold. The words blurred into a meaningless jumble, and the walls of her cubicle seemed to close in.