Gemotions

The meeting room felt oppressively hot, the air thick with unspoken tension. Sarah sat near the back, clutching her notepad so tightly her knuckles were white. Her heart raced, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs. Mr. Henderson, the CEO, began to speak, his voice flat, emotionless. The sale was a done deal.

A flush rose to Sarah’s cheeks. She focused on the grain of the conference table, trying to ground herself. Her vision blurred slightly. The faces of her coworkers swam before her eyes. She felt a desperate urge to flee, to escape the confines of the room, to be alone.

When Mr. Henderson asked for questions, her mouth felt dry. The words seemed to stick in her throat. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand answers, but she remained silent, a small, still figure lost in the sea of worried faces.