Gemotions

My coffee sloshed over the rim as I walked. The familiar clatter of the data entry room seemed a distant echo already. The fluorescent lights of the new office hummed, a low, persistent thrum that felt like it was drilling into my skull. Marketing. Me. It was like being told to climb a mountain in flippers.

The air in the new office was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and ambition. Everyone seemed to move with a purpose I couldn't grasp. I clutched the steaming mug, the ceramic suddenly feeling cold and slick against my clammy palms. My new desk, a sleek expanse of glass and metal, felt impossibly sterile, reflecting my anxious face back at me.

“Welcome, welcome!” a woman chirped, her smile dazzling and, I suspected, practiced. “You’ll love it here. We're a team." I managed a weak smile in return. My stomach felt like it was doing somersaults.