Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed a monotonous tune, mirroring the low thrum of discontent in Amelia's chest. She tapped her pen against the plastic of her desk, a staccato rhythm that punctuated the silence. Today was the day. The day she had to show this fresh-faced, overly-enthusiastic newcomer the ropes, all while knowing her own employment was about to end.

"So, you just click here," she heard her voice, flat and detached, as she pointed to a button on the computer screen. The trainee, a young man named David, leaned forward with a notepad and pen, eyes wide with the eagerness of someone stepping onto a well-lit path. Amelia, on the other hand, felt like she was wading through mud.

She watched David make a few tentative clicks, his brow furrowing in concentration. A tiny smile played on her lips. It was a reflex, a phantom of the days when she still enjoyed the work. Now, the task felt like an endless chore.