The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum with a particularly grating buzz today. Martha stared at the spreadsheet, the numbers blurring, but the sting in her gut was crystal clear. Daniel, fresh out of college and still sporting that irritatingly youthful glow, was making more than her. After ten years of loyal service, of early mornings and late nights, of enduring Mr. Henderson's passive-aggressive emails. She slammed her fist softly on the desk, the sound swallowed by the cubicle walls, a futile gesture against the unfairness.
She saw Daniel across the open-plan space, laughing with a client on the phone, his teeth a blinding white against his tan. She found herself deliberately dragging her feet when she passed his desk, her gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding eye contact. If he noticed her presence, he didn’t show it.
Later, she found herself lingering in the breakroom, the silence punctuated by the rhythmic clicks of the coffee machine. She saw Daniel walk in, his smile as wide as ever. He grabbed a cup of coffee and greeted her cheerfully, “Morning, Martha!” She grunted in response, avoiding his gaze, and turned back to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, feeling the cold seep into her bones.