Gemotions

The office was a blur of activity, each keystroke and phone call a sound she knew all too well. The woman, Clara, was sitting across from her with the posture of a predator. Clara’s name had been mentioned as the perfect replacement, and she felt like a ghost watching her own funeral. It was a strange sense of detachment that crept through her, as though she were watching a play, unable to affect the outcome.

Her hands moved through the familiar motions of the daily tasks, but her mind was elsewhere. The thought of losing this routine, of letting go of the familiarity, squeezed her chest. She had built a world here, brick by silent brick.

“And if you have any questions…just ask,” she said, her voice catching slightly. The woman offered a polite smile, but the expression failed to reach her eyes.