Gemotions

The spreadsheet shimmered in Clara's hands. Sunlight sliced through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, mirroring the chaotic dance in her stomach. Sarah, fresh out of college, with barely a year under her belt, was listed at a higher salary. Clara reread her own entry, then Sarah’s. The numbers blurred. She felt a pressure building behind her eyes, a tightness she couldn’t quite place. She excused herself from the meeting, mumbling something about a headache, and fled to the sanctuary of the supply closet.

The scent of toner and paper clips did nothing to calm her. She leaned against the cool metal of a filing cabinet. Her breath hitched. How? Why? She’d been at the firm for seven years, consistently exceeding expectations. Sarah’s bubbly emails and penchant for trendy coffee orders suddenly seemed less charming, more… predatory.

She clutched her chest, feeling a chill spread through her. Maybe there was some explanation. She would have to talk to someone, but at that moment, the thought of facing anyone, of even uttering the words out loud, was utterly paralyzing.