Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of Accounts shimmered on Eleanor’s face, reflecting the tremor in her lower lip. She’d been in payroll for eight years, surrounded by familiar faces and the predictable rhythm of deadlines. Now, she was headed to Marketing, a department she barely knew beyond the glossy brochures.

A lump tightened in her throat. She imagined the new team, already settled, already comfortable, possibly viewing her as an interloper. She’d see if she could get there a little early, maybe to tidy up her desk and make some space.

When she walked in, she saw everyone looked so young and stylish. They were laughing and joking amongst themselves, and she was sure her smile was weak and uncertain. She gave a small wave and mumbled a greeting, feeling a blush creep up her neck.

She could imagine the fear.