Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum louder than usual, a high-pitched whine that grated on Amelia's nerves. Each email notification, a sharp *ping*, felt like a personal insult, a taunt in the ongoing competition. She slammed her stapler on the desk, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Just yesterday, Mr. Henderson had been practically giddy praising David's presentation.

Amelia’s jaw clenched. David, with his effortless charm and perfectly curated work wardrobe. He’d probably waltzed into the meeting and, with a few well-placed jokes, secured the corner office. She’d spent weeks meticulously crafting her proposal, sacrificing evenings, weekends, even that pottery class she’d been looking forward to.

Now, she found herself staring at the screen, her gaze fixated on the cursor blinking mockingly on the blank page, another report she was supposed to be writing, but the words wouldn't come. Her fingers itched to crumple the paper and toss it in the bin.