Gemotions

The spreadsheet practically vibrated in Sarah's hands. It wasn't the numbers themselves, the cold, hard figures, that caused the tremor. It was the name. *Mark Olsen*. Beneath his name, the salary. Higher than hers. She reread the document, the fluorescent office lights seeming to hum a mocking tune.

Her jaw clenched. She glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. Mark usually left right at five. She'd have to catch him tomorrow. He was always so breezy, so eager to please. Now, she felt a tightness in her chest, a burning sensation creeping up her neck.

She shoved the paperwork back into her desk drawer, slamming it shut with more force than necessary. The sudden noise startled her, but it did nothing to soothe the knot twisting in her stomach. She needed to get out of there. Now.