Gemotions

"We're shifting you to the warehouse," his supervisor announced, his voice devoid of any inflection. Maria’s breath hitched. She blinked, unable to process the words. She'd worked in the design studio for five years, crafting beautiful layouts, collaborating with artists. The warehouse?

She felt her legs tremble slightly, and she clutched the edge of the conference table for support. The familiar scent of paint and paper, usually a comfort, now felt distant, alien. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was as if her voice had vanished.