Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. She’d been staring at it for an hour, the numbers swimming in a confusing dance. Then, a quick glance at Ben's salary, and suddenly, the air felt thin. Her own, listed just above, seemed to mock her with its lower value. She pushed her chair back, the plastic scraping harshly against the linoleum.

Amelia found herself pacing the small office, the rhythmic thud of her sensible shoes against the carpet the only sound. She picked at the corner of a sticky note on her desk, shredding it into increasingly smaller pieces. The coffee, cold now, sat forgotten in its mug.

"He's only been here six months!" she muttered under her breath, the words a low, bewildered hum. The injustice of it all, that this fresh-faced graduate earned more than she, with her five years of dedicated service, was a bitter pill to swallow. She had to sit down.