Gemotions

The memo was a slap in the face. Sarah, a star designer, was being moved to data entry. The sheer incongruity of it made her stomach churn. Her hands, usually graceful, now clenched into fists.

She ignored the introductory emails. She left the welcome packets untouched on her desk. She wore her oldest jeans and a faded band t-shirt to work, a blatant disregard for the office dress code.

At lunch, she ate alone, staring out the window, at the world beyond the building. Her shoulders were slouched and her expression was flat. She felt like she was being erased.