Gemotions

The phone slipped from Amelia’s suddenly nerveless fingers, bouncing off the polished mahogany table and skittering across the room. Her carefully sculpted eyebrows knitted together as she stared at the screen, the offending text message shimmering tauntingly. It was meant for David, a meticulously planned insult about his terrible taste in music. Now, it was addressed to her boss, Mr. Henderson. A crimson tide flooded her face.

Amelia’s breath hitched. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to rip the phone from the wall and hurl it into the street. Instead, she inhaled deeply, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She slammed a fist on the desk.

The office was dead silent, her knuckles throbbing against the wood. She grabbed her purse, the leather crinkling in her grasp, and stormed out, barely registering the surprised glances of her colleagues. The elevator doors seemed to close in slow motion, trapping her in a claustrophobic metal box.