Gemotions

The sales team’s constant barrage of loud voices and forced enthusiasm grated on Eleanor’s nerves. The relentless "selling" felt crass, the air thick with manufactured cheer. The smell of cheap cologne and the cheap coffee clung to the furniture like a stain.

She was meant to be the "liaison." She wanted to be anywhere else.

She watched her colleagues slap each other on the back, their forced laughter echoing through the small office. She retreated into her small space, away from the camaraderie. She tried to organize her stationary, to find some semblance of order. She wiped her computer screen repeatedly. The thought of actually speaking to any of these people made her want to retreat into herself.

She took a long, slow breath.