Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department seemed to hum a mocking tune, a constant reminder of the injustice. Brenda slammed her stapler onto the desk, the metal clattering echoing in the otherwise silent room. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edges of her monitor. After five years, *five years* of meticulously balancing budgets, she was being shoved into…marketing? It was an insult.

A slow burn crept up her neck, a physical manifestation of her fury. She imagined flaying the head of the man who decided this, slowly, painfully. His smug face, the way he always seemed to be laughing *at* her. Her jaw clenched so hard she thought her teeth might crack.

She shoved her chair back, the wheels squealing in protest. Grabbing her purse, she stomped towards the exit, ignoring the surprised glances from her colleagues. They didn't understand. They couldn't.