Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a relentless, irritating soundtrack to another Tuesday. Sarah stared at her computer screen, the spreadsheet mocking her with its endless columns of data. She knew, deep down, the numbers were meaningless now. The rumors had been swirling for weeks, whispered in hushed tones around the water cooler. Now the official email, terse and impersonal, confirmed the inevitable. A sale. Another chapter closing. She felt a familiar hollowness settle in her stomach.

Her fingers, usually quick and efficient, now moved with a deliberate slowness as she clicked through the motions of her work. It felt pointless, like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. The office, once a place of bustling activity, now seemed muted, the energy sucked out of the room like a vacuum. She sighed, the sound barely audible above the hum of the machines.

She thought about packing up her things, the framed photos of her family, the quirky mug she'd used for years. But the thought of it felt heavy, a burden. She would just… leave it for later. There wasn't much point, was there?