Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. Chloe picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, her focus entirely consumed by the frayed fabric. The rejection, if it came, would be more than just a missed opportunity; it would feel like a personal failing.

She found herself avoiding eye contact with her reflection in the window, afraid of what she might see. The interview itself, a blur of practiced smiles and forced confidence, now felt like a charade.

“Come on, Chloe, just breathe,” she said aloud, the sound of her voice thin and reedy. The cafe was busy, but she felt utterly alone, trapped in a bubble of anxious anticipation.