Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to mock Clara’s melancholy. She watched the dust motes dance in the golden light, mesmerized. Her fingers traced the outline of her nameplate, a polished brass rectangle that had always felt so permanent. Now, it felt like a relic.

She had spent five years in this department. Five years of meetings, deadlines, and shared lunches. Five years that seemed to have both rushed by and stretched endlessly. She wondered if the new department would feel as comfortable.

Her stomach churned. A knot had formed in her chest. She found herself wishing she could rewind time, to savor each moment. This quiet space, these colleagues, the routine – she would miss it all.