Gemotions

The spreadsheet on Maya’s screen blinked, mocking her. She ran a hand through her hair, snagging on the ends that always seemed to be escaping their bun. It wasn’t possible. Or, at least, it *shouldn’t* have been. The exact same data sets, the same formulas, the same color-coding even. A coldness crept up her spine, despite the office’s stuffy air. She reached for her coffee cup, finding it empty, and wished, fleetingly, that it were something stronger.

Her jaw clenched. She swiveled her chair to face the window, staring out at the cityscape. This project had been her baby. Weeks, months, of late nights and caffeine fueled mornings. Now, a carbon copy. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

She texted Liam, her team lead, asking if he could swing by her office immediately. His response was immediate: "On my way." She didn't bother to reply, the simple act of waiting already a chore.