Gemotions

My coffee sloshed over the rim as I slammed the mug onto my desk. The email was still open, the words "restructuring," "synergies," and "acquisition" blurring together. Forty hours a week, five days a week, for five years I’d given this place. Now, some faceless corporation was going to swallow us whole. My knuckles were white as I clutched the edge of the desk, the cheap laminate digging into my skin.

I grabbed my phone and furiously dialed Sarah's extension. It rang, and rang, and finally, her voice crackled through, “Sarah speaking.”

“Did you see the email?” I barked. The question was rhetorical.

Her response was a choked, “Yes.” I heard the click of her phone as she put it on speaker. “I can't believe it. After all the overtime we've put in.”