Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department seemed to hum a mocking tune. Brenda watched Mark pack his things. He’d been moved to Marketing, a department she'd always coveted. His new desk was going to be overlooking the park, while she stared at spreadsheets.

A knot formed in her stomach as she forced a smile and wished him well. "Congratulations," she chirped, the words feeling brittle on her tongue.

She spent the rest of the day replaying their conversation in her mind, dissecting his casual mention of "creative freedom" and the "dynamic team" he'd be joining. She avoided his gaze when they crossed paths, her own desk a prison cell compared to his impending liberation.

She found herself unusually irritable. Every phone call felt like a distraction, every email a burden. Even the normally soothing click of her keyboard grated on her.