Gemotions

The email sat in her inbox, a cold, clinical sentence: "Please see attached schedule for onboarding your replacement." A bead of sweat trickled down Amelia's temple. Her fingers, usually quick on the keyboard, fumbled as she clicked the attachment. The picture of Sarah, her replacement, in the meeting invitation, seemed to leer at her.

Amelia pulled at the collar of her blouse, suddenly feeling suffocated. The air conditioning, usually a welcome relief, now felt like a glacial blast. She started to rehearse what she would say, her voice cracking in a dry run. The thought of divulging her carefully guarded secrets, her shortcuts, her ways of navigating the minefield of office politics, made her stomach churn.

The first training session arrived. Amelia managed a weak smile as Sarah entered. "Welcome," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. Her hand, offered for a handshake, was clammy. She found herself focusing intensely on the pattern of Sarah's floral blouse, avoiding eye contact.