Gemotions

The stale air in the conference room seemed to cling to her skin. Emily sat across the table from Mark, the other candidate, and the executive team. The tension was palpable, heavy enough to cut with a knife. Each person seemed to be shrouded in an aura of unspoken words, judging glances.

She felt a tremor run through her, and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap, willing them to stop shaking. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. She struggled to maintain eye contact, her gaze flitting between the faces around the table, searching for any hint of what was to come.

The words of the team blurred, she heard no more than indistinct murmurs.