Gemotions

The packing boxes loomed, cardboard monoliths in Sarah's small office. She’d been given until Friday, which felt like an eternity. She kept catching herself staring at the empty spaces where her personal items once resided. Her usually brisk movements now felt slow, deliberate, as if each step required a monumental effort.

She found herself unusually quiet, even in the bustling break room where she usually participated in the lively discussions. Her appetite had vanished, and she only picked at her food. The conversations she overheard felt distant, like a radio playing in another room. The fluorescent lights overhead felt harsh, too bright.

She sat at her desk, staring at the empty inbox. Each email seemed to take an extraordinary amount of effort to process. The thought of learning new processes, new faces, new everything, felt overwhelming. She felt like a small boat lost in a vast ocean.

The farewell party the team threw was awkward, a forced cheerfulness that only served to highlight her unease. She managed a weak smile as she accepted the card, but her eyes were fixed on the door, a silent plea for escape.