Gemotions

"No." The word was a venomous exhale, directed at the chirpy voice on the other end of the phone. "Absolutely not." Amelia could feel the pressure building behind her eyes. The idea of the Golden Dragon shutting its doors was a personal affront.

She crushed the phone receiver in her hand, the plastic cracking. The cheerful floral arrangement on her desk seemed offensively bright. She threw it across the room where it smashed against the wall, petals scattering like confetti in a funeral.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs. She needed to *do* something. She paced, her high heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the hardwood floor. The damn world was always changing, always taking. Always.