Gemotions

The elevator doors hissed open, and Amelia strode out, heels clicking a rhythmic beat against the polished marble floor. She smoothed down the perfectly tailored blazer, the fabric a familiar comfort against her skin. A flush of heat warmed her cheeks, a pleasant afterglow from the presentation she’d just nailed. She’d fielded every question with ease, her voice steady, her arguments irrefutable. Grinning, she pulled out her phone, ready to bask in the expected flurry of congratulatory texts. She tapped out a quick message: "Nailed it! They were eating out of my hand." and hit send. A moment later, a terse reply popped up: "Who is this?" Amelia’s smile faltered. Her stomach lurched.