Gemotions

The glow of the monitor bathed Maya's face in an anemic light. She slumped in her chair, the ergonomics of which had long since ceased to matter. The spreadsheet before her was a sea of numbers, each one seeming to stretch into infinity. She felt a profound weariness, her thoughts sluggish and disjointed. She chewed on her lip, a habit she'd developed when fighting off the inevitable. "Just the budget, just the budget," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

A text message pinged on her phone. It was from Leo, her colleague from the rival firm, a man she barely knew. The message was simple: “Got a moment? Need to compare notes on Project Nightingale.”

Her heart thumped heavily. She dragged herself out of her chair, her legs feeling like lead weights. In a nearby meeting room, Leo was already waiting. On the projector, the same project layout as hers blazed, numbers mirroring her own, almost mocking.