Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. It was *her* design. The same color scheme, the same font, the exact same formulas. A cold dread crept up her spine, tightening her chest. She swiveled slowly, her chair squeaking a protest against the abrupt movement. Across the vast office, Mr. Henderson, his face flushed, was saying something. Amelia couldn't quite make it out; the words seemed to be bouncing off a newly formed, invisible barrier. All she could focus on was that screen, its mirroring image mocking her own creation.