Gemotions

The phone vibrated on Maya’s desk. She snatched it up, expecting a confirmation for her dinner reservation. Instead, a message popped up: "Wow, that dress makes you look… well, you know." Her face burned. She felt the sudden urge to shred the perfectly ironed napkin beside her. The words, intended for someone else, hung in the air, a phantom weight.

Her fingers trembled as she deleted the message. She slammed the phone down, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet office. She glared at the computer screen, the bright light suddenly grating on her. The feeling of being diminished, of being judged, tightened her chest.

She stood abruptly, abandoning her work, and headed for the break room, needing the bitter taste of coffee to wash away the sour taste in her mouth.