Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. Another quarter, another mountain of data entry. Her back ached, a persistent throb that mirrored the knot in her stomach. She stared at the numbers, uselessly circling a particularly large discrepancy with a red pen. Why was she even bothering?

Her junior colleague, fresh out of college, breezed past her desk, whistling. "Big presentation today, huh?" he chirped, oblivious. Amelia grunted in response, the sound catching in her throat. She remembered the hushed whispers she'd overheard at the water cooler: "He's making what?" The numbers on her own paycheck seemed to shrink in comparison, as did her enthusiasm.

She needed a break. She needed to feel the sun on her face. She closed the lid of her laptop with a decisive snap and fled the fluorescent-lit prison of her office, leaving the unfinished work on her desk.