Gemotions

The new office felt… wrong. Amelia tapped her pen against the surface of her new desk, a cold, smooth expanse. She’d been in the Archives for twelve years, surrounded by the scent of old paper and the quiet authority of forgotten knowledge. Now, she was in Sales. The constant buzz of phones, the aggressive posters, and the pervasive aroma of coffee all felt jarring.

She kept running her fingers along the edge of her desk, a nervous habit she hadn't realized she had. Her hands felt clumsy, unfamiliar. Her gaze kept drifting to the door, wondering what she’d done. The air tasted… off.

She watched her new team members in action, their confident pronouncements and forceful hand gestures. It was like observing a foreign species.