Gemotions

The new department smelled of stale pizza and something vaguely floral, a combination that made Amelia’s stomach lurch. She tightened her jaw, trying to control the involuntary twitch in her eye. She was supposed to be enthusiastic. She was supposed to be a team player. But everything felt wrong.

The graphic designers were a flamboyant bunch, their language peppered with jargon she didn’t understand. They spoke about "synergy" and "branding," terms that were alien to her experience in the archives. She felt like an imposter.

She picked at the corner of the label on her new nameplate, her fingers working with nervous energy. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She felt trapped in an elaborate stage play, and she didn't know her lines.