Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum with a malevolent energy, mirroring the throbbing in Amelia's temples. She’d poured months into this damn project, sacrificing weekends, social life, and sanity. Now, staring at the presentation across the conference table, her stomach twisted. It was… hers. Nearly identical, down to the obscure research citations she'd painstakingly unearthed. Across from her, Mark, all smarmy smiles and overly-friendly gestures, beamed. He was the golden boy, the favored one.

Amelia’s jaw clenched. The urge to smash something, anything, was almost overwhelming. She forced a smile, a brittle thing that felt like shards of glass in her mouth. “Interesting,” she managed, her voice tight.

The blood in her veins felt like ice water. She focused on the grain of the conference table, trying to anchor herself to something, anything, besides the creeping tide of fury that threatened to drown her.