Gemotions

The scent of stale popcorn and cheap perfume clung to the air in the customer service center. Margaret, newly assigned here, felt a familiar pressure building behind her eyes. Her previous role in public relations had been demanding, but at least she felt some modicum of respect.

She glanced at the endless rows of cubicles, each occupied by someone talking on the phone. She picked up her headset, the plastic cold against her ear. “Thank you for calling,” she began, her voice flat.

She stared out the window, watching the city bus pass by, wishing she was anywhere else. The incessant ringing, the endless complaints. She found herself staring at the keyboard, her fingers reluctant to type. The world shrunk down to this small, suffocating space.