Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt rubber. It always did when Sarah was in this state. She chewed her lip, watching Mark, the new guy, navigate the customer service software. His smile was annoyingly bright, his questions relentlessly cheerful. She wanted to tell him to shut up, to just *get it* already. But she plastered a polite expression on her face.

Her stomach churned. The repetitive ringing of the phone amplified the pressure building in her chest. She needed this over, needed to be done with it. The clock seemed to move at a glacial pace.

"Okay," she said, the word coming out a little strangled. "So, when a customer complains about… the widget malfunctioning… you… you…" She trailed off, unable to articulate the simple instructions she’d given countless times. Her pulse hammered in her ears.