Gemotions

The spreadsheet shimmered in Clara's vision, the numbers a garish, insulting green. She pressed a hand against the desk, the cool wood doing little to soothe the sudden heat blooming in her chest. Liam, barely out of university, was pulling in more than she, with five years seniority, was. A wave of nausea churned.

She needed air. Clara bolted from her cubicle, the stale office air suddenly thick and cloying. The break room felt even worse. The discarded coffee cups and crumbs left out by Liam and his cohort looked obscene. She slammed the door behind her, then leaned against it, breathing heavily.

Her supervisor, Mr. Henderson, strolled past, beaming. “Great work on the Adams project, Clara! Excellent presentation.” His words felt like a slap. She managed a tight smile, but the words tasted like ash in her mouth.