Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department hummed, a sound that usually lulled Amelia into a productive rhythm. Today, it grated on her ears. She drummed her fingers on the cold steel of her desk, each tap a tiny, insistent demand for the move to Marketing to be finalized. The email thread confirming the transfer had been going back and forth for a week, and each message felt like a personal affront to her time.

Amelia glanced at her watch. Another five minutes. She'd told herself she'd wait, but the air in accounting felt thick, stale, as if all the paperwork was trying to hold her back. The clatter of keyboards became unbearable.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I’m just going to check on something,” she muttered to no one in particular, striding towards the office of the HR manager.