Gemotions

The new hire, Brenda, seemed ridiculously perky. Every question she asked was met with a curt, “Look it up.” Clara, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, retreated to the small breakroom. The stale coffee was a comfort, the only quiet space in a world that felt suddenly too loud.

She avoided eye contact as Brenda observed her. Each time Brenda tried to ask about a certain procedure, Clara would interrupt with a wave of her hand. Then, she would say, “You’ll be fine.” She found herself focusing on small, inconsequential details, ignoring the important questions that Brenda was asking. She kept her back turned as much as possible, as if hiding from some encroaching shadow.