Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a sound that usually faded into the background, but today it grated on Amelia’s nerves. Her replacement, a fresh-faced college graduate named Sarah, smiled at her, a little too brightly, as Amelia showed her the filing system. Each file, each document felt like a brick she was forced to hand over, building Sarah’s fortress while chipping away at her own. She found herself snapping at Sarah for asking a simple question about the color-coding system. Her knuckles were white as she pointed at a particularly dense file.

Amelia's chest felt tight. This was supposed to be a graceful handover, a mentoring opportunity. Instead, every interaction felt like a small, painful extraction. She felt the urge to yank the files from Sarah's hands, to rip them apart.

Later, in the break room, she couldn't bring herself to eat her sandwich. The plastic wrap crinkled loudly as she unpeeled it, the sound amplified in her ears. She stared out the window, at the gray sky, and a knot formed in her stomach.