Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom buzzed, a sound that usually faded into background noise. Today, it was a physical assault on Amelia's ears. She slammed the microwave door shut, the force of it rattling the ancient appliance. Her coffee had cooled, lukewarm and bitter, a perfect reflection of her mood. The memo, tucked away in her inbox, had finally registered: “Potential Acquisition.” A merger. A buyout. It all meant the same thing: her comfortable little world, crumbling.

Amelia stabbed at her email again, re-reading the dry corporate language. She'd poured months of work into this project. Now, who knew what would happen? She crumpled the paper cup in her hand, the sound a satisfying crunch. She considered throwing it in the bin with extra force. She didn't. She just sighed, the air hissing out like a deflating balloon.