Gemotions

The pen snapped between Amelia’s fingers, splinters of plastic scattering across the desk. The report lay unfinished, the words blurring before her eyes. Alex’s version of the presentation was completely different from what she’d thought. He'd even taken credit for her ideas.

She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands. It felt like her skull was about to explode. He kept saying it was a collaborative effort. Collaborative? She was the one who pulled all-nighters. She was the one who researched and wrote.

The office felt stifling. The fluorescent lights buzzed, amplifying the pressure in her temples. She grabbed her bag and walked out. The elevator doors opened with a metallic clang, and she practically shoved her way in. The buttons blurred as she hammered at them, the numbers a meaningless parade of floors. She had to get out.