Gemotions

A vein throbbed in Amelia's forehead as she stared at the screen. Her fingers, usually nimble on the keyboard, felt stiff and clumsy. The celebratory email, brimming with false cheer, mocked her. Her research, her insights, her passion – all attributed to “Mr. Harrison Pierce”. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to shatter every piece of glass in the office.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the rising tide of frustration. The office air, always stale, felt particularly thick today. She could feel a twitch in her left eye.

"Just breathe," she hissed to herself, though the words did little to calm the internal tempest.