Gemotions

“No,” she whispered, the word a tiny, fragile thing against the roaring in her ears. Sarah reread the email, hoping the words would magically change. They didn’t. The screen seemed to flicker, the bright light an assault on her senses.

She pushed herself away from the computer, the chair scraping harshly against the linoleum floor. The cafeteria, usually bustling and cheerful, suddenly felt like a scene from a horror film. She needed to get out, to escape the suffocating weight of this failure.

Everything about this day felt repulsive. She tossed her unfinished sandwich into the trash, the half-eaten food seeming utterly unappetizing. She felt like crawling into a hole, preferably one far away from everyone.