Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia's eyes. It was the same one, she realized with a sinking feeling. Identical formulas, the same color-coding, even the same tiny, self-deprecating comment in cell B27: “Still a work in progress, unfortunately.” Her breath hitched. She'd poured months into this, weekends, late nights fueled by lukewarm coffee and the nagging fear of failure. Now, staring at the screen across from her, she saw a perfect mirror of her own effort.

A flush crept up her neck, burning her cheeks. She focused on the grain of the conference table, anything to avoid meeting the other person's gaze. The other person – David, the new hire. He was explaining his project, full of enthusiasm, unaware of the ground crumbling beneath Amelia's feet.

"So, I think the projections are pretty solid," David was saying. Amelia picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. She wanted to vanish.