Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the breakroom seemed to hum with an unusual intensity. Sarah's hands, usually steady, wouldn't stop fidgeting with the chipped ceramic mug. She caught her reflection in the microwave door and barely recognized herself. Her eyes were brighter, darting around the room, taking in every detail of the faded posters and the overflowing recycling bin.

A voice, low and conspiratorial, cut through the quiet. "Heard the rumors?" It was Mark from accounting. His face was flushed, his tie loosened. Sarah managed a shrug, but her pulse quickened.

"They're selling. The whole damn operation," he continued, leaning in. Sarah felt a strange lightness in her chest, a sudden need to pace. She quickly excused herself, needing to walk.

Her feet carried her automatically toward the CEO’s office. She didn't know why, but the air around her prickled. The polished mahogany door seemed to vibrate.