Gemotions

The pristine office building, once a symbol of prestige and success in Clara's eyes, now felt like a cage. She watched as Thomas, her supposedly high-powered lawyer friend, emerged from the building, dressed in a janitor's uniform.

A wave of nausea washed over her. The elaborate dinners, the tales of high-profile clients, all felt like empty boasts. It was as if a part of her had shattered. She wanted to scream. She crossed her arms tightly, as if to hold herself together.

“Thomas… that’s… not a briefcase,” she managed to say. The words felt disconnected, as if she were speaking a foreign language. Her eyes began to well with tears, and she didn't know why.