Gemotions

The morning air was crisp and cool against Elena's skin as she walked to work. The familiar route, the same buildings, the same faces. It was a comforting monotony. Each step was solid, confident. She knew she was good at her job.

Her desk, a testament to her organization, held no clutter. The neatly stacked files, the color-coded sticky notes, the polished pen holder - all these things grounded her. She felt like she could weather any storm.

A sudden feeling of unease prickled the back of her neck. She looked up from her computer, and saw Mark standing in the doorway, chewing on his lip. “Elena, can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice low.