Gemotions

The elevator ride felt interminable. Amelia kept pressing the button for her floor, as if willing it to move faster. Her stomach churned, a knot of anxiety twisting tighter with each passing second. She hadn't slept well the night before, haunted by dreams of being overlooked, of being discarded.

She walked into the office, the bright morning light seeming to assault her senses. The air felt stale, the familiar scent of coffee and printer ink suddenly nauseating. She forced a smile, but it felt brittle, unnatural, a mask she had to wear.

She saw the congratulations, the hugs, the champagne flutes in Sarah’s office. It felt like a punch to the gut. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, she just swallowed hard, and retreated to her desk, the silence of her workspace a hollow comfort.