Gemotions

Sarah’s cheeks burned as she watched Mark, in his ill-fitting, off-the-rack suit, try to charm the CEO. He'd always regaled her with tales of his high-powered finance job, the fancy clients, the grueling hours. Now, here he was, at her company's holiday party, clearly out of his depth. The nametag read “Administrative Assistant,” a fact she'd just gleaned from a mortified coworker. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

The clinking of champagne glasses sounded like a mocking chorus in her ears. Each forced laugh Mark emitted felt like a personal affront. She busied herself with refilling the water pitchers, her hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped one.

Later, cornered by Mark as he clumsily flirted with her boss, she stammered a hasty goodbye and fled to the restroom. She stared at her reflection, feeling a deep, sinking shame well up inside her, a feeling like her own accomplishments were somehow diminished by his fabrication.