Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Clara's mouth. She stared at the numbers printed on the performance review. She worked hard. She met deadlines. She was always willing to help. She had assumed, after three years, she was a valued member of the team.

She felt a wave of heat climb her neck. She pushed away from her desk, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her fingers fumbled with her phone, scrolling through job postings.

The air conditioning seemed to be failing, a bead of sweat trickled down her temple.