Gemotions

The notice arrived on her screen like a digital slap in the face. She hadn’t even finished proofreading the quarterly report, and now this. A transfer to Accounts Payable. Her stomach clenched. A cold sweat slicked her palms as she reread the email, the words blurring before her eyes. The marketing team, where she’d thought she was finally finding her footing, was now a distant, unattainable dream.

She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent office. She couldn’t bring herself to meet anyone's gaze. The usual chatter and friendly banter of colleagues felt like a cruel mockery.

She spent the remainder of the day meticulously cleaning out her desk, as if trying to erase any trace of herself. Every stapler, pen, and notepad was carefully organized, as if this act of order could somehow stave off the inevitable transition. Her cheeks burned.