The email arrived like a poisoned dart. Sarah stared at the subject line – "Department Reassignment" – and felt the world tilt. Her vision blurred, the familiar office suddenly alien and threatening. She slammed her fist on the desk, a choked-off sound escaping her lips. "No!" she gasped, the word barely audible. It was a strangled plea, a desperate denial. Her breathing quickened, shallow and erratic, as if she were running a marathon.
She reread the message, each word a fresh assault. The words swam before her eyes. Marketing. Marketing? After five years in Accounting, this felt like being exiled. She felt a wave of icy panic wash over her. It tightened her chest, making it difficult to breathe, a cold pressure squeezing the air from her lungs. She pushed back from her desk, the chair screeching on the linoleum, a jarring noise in the sudden silence.
She needed to speak to someone. Anyone. She grabbed her phone, her fingers fumbling over the numbers as she tried to dial her friend, Emily. The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor, the screen cracking under the impact. Tears welled up in her eyes, hot and insistent. Everything was crumbling. She was falling apart.