Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a sound that had been the soundtrack to her working life for nearly three decades. She watched Amelia, her replacement, meticulously sort the invoices, a task she’d once performed with the same focused intensity. A phantom ache settled in her shoulders, a familiar reminder of countless hours hunched over a desk just like this one.

A smile, small and almost involuntary, tugged at the corners of her lips as Amelia stumbled over a particularly archaic filing system. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I remember the day I learned that one. Feels like a lifetime ago.” The worn leather of her office chair creaked as she shifted, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet.

She found herself, almost against her will, pointing out the subtle idiosyncrasies of the office, the way the late-afternoon sun hit the window just so, the specific creak in the floorboards that meant the boss was on his way. A lump formed in her throat when she explained how she and her colleague had once spilled coffee on his desk.