Gemotions

The morning sun cast long shadows across the waiting room. Amelia smoothed her skirt, then smoothed it again. She felt a quietness within her, a surrender to the beige walls and the humming fluorescent lights. The other applicants chatted, their voices bouncing off each other like frantic birds. Amelia simply nodded when offered a stale biscuit, her gaze fixed on the plastic plant in the corner.

Her friend, Ben, strode in, radiating nervous energy. He slapped her on the shoulder. "Ready to win this thing, Ames?" he asked, his voice sharp. Amelia offered a small smile, a gesture that barely moved the corners of her mouth.

The interview was a blur of polite questions and hesitant answers. Amelia stumbled over her words, her voice barely a whisper. She seemed content to let the interviewer lead, agreeing with every suggestion. Later, walking home with Ben, who was practically buzzing with excitement, she just listened, her pace steady and even.