Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a stark white rectangle promising news. She hadn’t opened it yet. The cursor blinked mockingly, a tiny strobe light of potential rejection. Her palms were slick, and she rubbed them against her jeans, a nervous tic she’d developed over the past few weeks.

She kept replaying the interview in her head, cringing at a perceived stumble over a question about her previous role. She'd been so sure, so convinced she'd aced it. Now, doubt gnawed at her, a constant internal tremor.

A notification popped up, a message from Liam. "Heard anything yet?" it read. A wave of nausea washed over her. She typed back a curt "Not yet." before slamming her laptop shut. The silence in her apartment suddenly felt oppressive.