Gemotions

The email read, “Congratulations, both you and Mark are being considered for the Senior Analyst position.” A grin stretched across Clara’s face so wide her cheeks ached. She spun in her chair, a giggle bubbling up from her chest. The fluorescent lights seemed to shimmer, the beige walls of her cubicle suddenly less oppressive.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard, composing a quick reply to her manager, something professional and filled with enthusiasm. She re-read it three times, deleting and rephrasing until each word felt perfect, brimming with the optimism that surged through her.

Coffee, she decided, was absolutely necessary. She practically skipped to the breakroom, the clatter of her shoes on the linoleum a joyful percussion. The stale air of the room didn’t bother her; even the weak, lukewarm brew tasted like ambrosia today.