Gemotions

The spreadsheet shimmered in Clara's vision, blurring the numbers. She blinked, forcing herself to focus on the stark black and white. There it was, the salary column for Ben, her junior, the one she’d trained, the one who barely knew the difference between a pivot table and a pie chart. His compensation? Significantly higher.

Her jaw clenched. She swiveled in her chair, the sudden movement nearly knocking over the meticulously organized stack of files on her desk. A wave of heat washed over her face, turning her cheeks crimson. She considered calling HR, but the thought simmered in her gut like a slowly burning coal.

Clara slammed her laptop shut with a decisive thud. The sound echoed in the otherwise quiet office, drawing a few curious glances. She grabbed her coat, the fabric feeling rough against her skin, and stormed out, leaving a trail of frustration in her wake.