Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to amplify the silence. Amelia meticulously arranged her sandwich, rearranging each pickle slice with unnecessary care. Her fingers, usually steady, trembled slightly. A stray crumb clung to her lip, and she brushed it away, acutely aware of the observing eyes of Mr. Henderson, the office manager, who was quietly scrolling on his phone nearby. Whispers had been circulating about a potential acquisition, and the sudden presence of a suited man in the lobby earlier had done nothing to calm her nerves.

The coffee, usually a comfort, tasted bitter today. Every sip was accompanied by a mental replay of the morning's meeting, her own small contributions seeming flimsy and insignificant. She imagined her boss’s disappointed face if she were to make a misstep, and her stomach lurched. The fear of being the one to mess it up made her want to disappear.

She avoided looking at the news feeds and instead stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, blurring the world outside. The world, like her, felt like it was about to change.