Gemotions

The elevator doors chimed open, and Amelia practically skipped out, humming a jaunty tune. Her new desk in the Creative Writing department, finally! She’d waited ages for this transfer. She adjusted the strap of her messenger bag, the leather cool against her skin, and then grinned at the receptionist. "Good morning! Ready to unleash some tales, I am!"

Her fingers fairly danced across the keyboard. Words spilled forth, a torrent of ideas that had been dammed up for far too long. A story about a quirky librarian who solves mysteries, a poem about the moon, a short play about talking squirrels. It all flowed. She leaned back in her chair, a wide, unstoppable smile plastered across her face.

The air in the office seemed brighter, the fluorescent lights less harsh. Even the stale coffee in the break room tasted like ambrosia. She twirled a pen between her fingers, her mind already racing with the next plot twist. Oh, this was going to be brilliant.