Gemotions

The elevator doors hissed open, and Amelia stumbled out, nearly colliding with a potted fern. Her pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The words “promotion” and “competitive” had been used in the same sentence, and suddenly the air in the office felt thin, difficult to draw into her lungs.

She fumbled for her coffee cup, the ceramic cool against her trembling fingers. It was the same coffee she drank every morning, yet today it tasted metallic, unpleasant. She needed to sit down.

The thought of facing her desk, the mountain of tasks waiting for her, felt insurmountable. She considered turning around, retreating to the relative safety of her apartment. But then, the door to Mr. Harrison’s office, the one she would now be sharing with Simon, opened.