Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a shrill counterpoint to the racing pulse in Amelia's ears. She tapped a pen against her teeth, her gaze darting between the email on her screen and the closed door of Mr. Henderson's office. The subject line: “Promotion Opportunity.” Her palms felt slick, and she scrubbed them against her jeans, a nervous tic she hadn't realized she had. This was it. Years of late nights, successful pitches, and relentless networking had culminated in this moment.

The air in the office suddenly felt thick, almost electric. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her focus blurred, and the words on the screen became a jumble. She rose from her chair and paced.

The click of the door handle jolted her. Mr. Henderson emerged, a slight smile playing on his lips, and gestured her into his office.