Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to amplify the silence. Eleanor watched her reflection in the polished glass of the desk, tracing the lines etched around her eyes. She hadn't slept well, and the weight of her responsibilities felt like an anchor. The thought of training someone new, someone who would inevitably take her place, filled her with a profound sense of weariness.

The new recruit, a man named Mark, arrived precisely on time. He was eager, peppering her with questions from the moment he sat down. She answered them, of course, giving the appearance of being engaged, but each explanation felt like a stone dropping into a vast, empty well.

"So, what do you think?" Mark asked brightly after a particularly complicated explanation of a tax form.

"It's...fine," she replied, her voice flat. "Let's move on."