Gemotions

The application sat on Sarah's desk, a beacon of paper she couldn't bring herself to touch. Across the room, the laundry basket overflowed, a silent judgment on her procrastination. She swiveled her chair, the squeak a sharp sound in the quiet apartment, and stared out the window. The cityscape was a blur of motion, people rushing, cars honking, each a tiny piece of a world she felt detached from. A wave of nausea washed over her. She gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, and squeezed her eyes shut, taking deep, shaky breaths. The job posting's looming deadline felt like a physical weight, pressing her down.