Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department hummed, a sound that usually blended into the background, but today seemed to drill directly into Amelia's skull. She slammed the stapler down on her desk, the sharp *crack* echoing in the otherwise quiet office. This transfer was a joke. Years spent mastering the nuances of marketing, only to be shunted over to data entry.

“Amelia, could you please review these spreadsheets?” Mr. Henderson, his voice overly cheerful, practically bounced into her new cubicle. She met his gaze, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Of course, Mr. Henderson.”

Her fingers tapped a furious rhythm on the keyboard as she opened the first file, the numbers blurring before her eyes. The sheer monotony of it all – the columns, the rows, the relentless sameness – was almost physically painful. She craved the creative chaos of her old job, the brainstorming sessions, the campaign planning.

She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands. This was going to be a long, long month.