Gemotions

Clara shifted in her uncomfortable heels, the cramped space amplifying the sound of her frustrated sigh. The stale air felt thick, heavy like a physical weight on her chest. They’d been trapped for an hour, and already, she was replaying every email she’d sent this week, searching for a single misplaced word, a tone that might have been construed as… well, as anything other than perfect.

“You okay?” Mark, her coworker, asked, a genuine note of concern in his voice. She hated that he could read her so easily.

"Just… warm," she lied, fiddling with the gold chain around her neck. She knew she'd messed up the Johnson account. She'd been too assertive, too… brash. Now the thought of that presentation hung over her like a thundercloud.