Gemotions

"Unbelievable," Clara muttered, the word a low growl. The announcement had just confirmed it: another two hours. The charity gala, the one she’d spent months organizing, was already underway. She felt a burning sensation in her throat.

She slammed her fist lightly onto the armrest of her chair, a sudden release of pent-up energy. Her shoulders were tense, hunched as if bearing a great weight. The brightly colored chairs and cheerful posters around her seemed jarringly out of place.

She pulled out her phone and started typing a message to her assistant, the words coming out in sharp, staccato bursts. The terminal noise amplified her irritation; every announcement felt like a personal insult.