Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department seemed to hum with judgment. Amelia clutched the manila folder tighter, the edges digging into her palms. Her stomach churned. The transfer email felt like a death knell; Human Resources, the land of performance reviews and hushed whispers, was now her new reality. Her breath hitched as she approached the desk of Mr. Henderson, whose usual jovial greeting was replaced with a tight-lipped nod.

“Amelia, right? Welcome. Have a seat.” He gestured to a chair that seemed unusually small. She sank into it, the plastic cold against her thighs. Her gaze darted around the cubicle farm, searching for a friendly face, a sign of hope. Finding none, she swallowed hard.

"What am I supposed to do?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. Mr. Henderson's eyes narrowed.