Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash, just another thing wrong with this Tuesday. Emily chewed on her lip, a nervous habit she’d picked up over the years. This whole setup was ludicrous. She'd spent years perfecting her workflow, and now she had to watch someone else fumble through it.

"And then you click this," she said, her voice flat, pointing to a tiny button buried deep within the software. The new girl, all wide-eyed and eager, nodded enthusiastically, scribbling furiously.

Emily tapped her foot, the repetitive thud a counterpoint to the quiet office sounds. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken expectations and the looming shadow of her departure. It seemed as though every question was a personal affront. Each mistake a deliberate act against her.

She rubbed her temples, trying to massage away the tension that was building, and building, in her forehead.