Gemotions

"Just breathe," Sarah muttered, but her lungs felt tight, as if a weight sat upon her chest. The small, cluttered office where she worked as a junior accountant suddenly felt too small. The idea that had consumed her for months, the self-adjusting desk chair, was now someone else's.

She ran her hands through her hair, a nervous gesture she repeated often. The fluorescent lights hummed with a maddening drone. She felt suffocated, her mind a whirlwind of frustration. She had to leave. She grabbed her purse and muttered an excuse to her boss, who looked up with a frown. Outside, the city roared, an alien symphony of noise and movement.