Gemotions

The lawyer’s office was opulent, all dark wood and leather. Emily stared at the framed certificates on the wall, each one a testament to the man sitting opposite her. He spoke in calm, measured tones, explaining the legal ramifications. But the words were meaningless, a foreign language she couldn't comprehend. A cold sweat was forming on her brow.

She twisted her hands in her lap, her knuckles turning white. The plush leather of the chair felt like sandpaper against her skin. She had to ask him to repeat himself.

The elevator ride down felt unnaturally long, the steel walls closing in, pressing against her. The city outside, once a source of comfort, now seemed hostile and unwelcoming. She fled into the crowded street, the press of bodies making her feel trapped.