Gemotions

The email arrived at precisely 9:03 AM. Subject: "Department Transfer - Clarissa Miller." Clarissa scanned the text. Marketing to Research & Development. She tapped the delete key absentmindedly, then paused. Curiosity, perhaps? She opened it. The details were standard. Her manager’s signature. She closed the window. Back to the spreadsheet. The numbers blurred. Another Tuesday.

The office felt the same. Fluorescent lights humming. Coffee brewing in the shared kitchen. Conversations echoing. She took a sip from her lukewarm mug, the taste of stale beans doing nothing to rouse her. A yawn escaped, and she stretched, the movement a purely mechanical one. No anticipation. No dread. Just... more time.

Later, packing her things felt perfunctory. A desk plant. Photos of a long-ago vacation. A half-eaten bag of trail mix. She methodically boxed it all, the cardboard's rough texture scratching her palms. The box joined a collection of others, all identical, lined up in a vacant corner. That was that.