Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, unread. She could practically feel the pixels radiating the news. Both her and Mark’s names were on the shortlist. Eleanor stared at the screen, her breath hitching. She’d put in the hours, the late nights, the strategic coffee runs for the boss.

Her hand drifted to her chest, tracing the line of her collarbone. A knot formed in her stomach, a tight, unfamiliar pressure. What did Mark have that she didn't? He was friendly, sure, but Eleanor was the one who could navigate the labyrinthine corporate bureaucracy.

She finally clicked on the email. The bland, impersonal language did nothing to quell the unease. A meeting was scheduled for Friday. Her palms grew damp. She needed another cup of coffee.