Gemotions

The spreadsheet shimmered in Clara's vision. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then stared again. The numbers swam, but the conclusion remained the same: Mark, fresh out of college, was making five thousand dollars more than she was. She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent office. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, the word a tight, strangled sound. Her jaw clenched. She felt a burning pressure behind her eyeballs, like someone was inflating them from the inside.

She stood abruptly, shoving her chair back with enough force that it scraped loudly against the linoleum. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of her purse. “I need air,” she announced to the empty room, her voice sharper than she intended. The door slammed behind her as she stalked out.