Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Clara's mouth. She set the mug down with a clatter, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent office. The fluorescent lights buzzed, amplifying the unsettling pressure in her head. She had just seen the email from HR, a mass-sent message about salaries. It mentioned her raise, but didn't state the exact number. She knew.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her emails, looking for something, anything, to distract her. She found nothing but more work, more demands. The pile on her desk seemed to be growing, mocking her. She rubbed her temples, fighting back a wave of dizziness.

"Can you handle the Johnson account?" her manager had asked earlier that morning. Clara had agreed, of course. She always did. Now, she simply wanted to vanish.