Gemotions

Rain lashed against the office window, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. She tapped a pen against the instruction manual, the rhythmic clicking a pathetic counterpoint to the younger woman’s eager questions. This girl, Sarah, with her bright eyes and boundless energy, was to be Amelia's successor. Amelia found herself answering in clipped sentences, her throat tight, a lump lodged stubbornly in the back. The air felt thick, heavy, as though the very oxygen was pressing down on her chest.

Sarah kept chattering, oblivious, pointing at flow charts and asking about the complicated intricacies of their data entry system. Amelia focused on the cursor on the screen, meticulously clicking through each file, showing the process for the hundredth time. The repetitive nature of it all felt like a physical burden.

“And then you just hit ‘submit’,” Amelia finally mumbled, her voice barely audible. Her shoulders slumped.