Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights in the office seemed to mock Amelia’s efforts to focus. Her vision swam as she stared at the spreadsheet, numbers blurring. This morning's email, the one about the upcoming company-wide meeting, sat unopened in her inbox, a digital paperweight. Her hands were clammy, and she kept picking at the cuticle of her thumb, oblivious to the sting.

A coworker's casual "Heard anything about today's meeting?" jolted her. Amelia just shook her head, forcing a smile that felt brittle. The knot in her stomach tightened. She grabbed her water bottle and took a long, unsteady swig, the cold liquid doing little to soothe the building unease.

She glanced at the clock, its hands seemingly frozen. The thought of the meeting loomed, a dark cloud gathering on the horizon. Amelia closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but the air felt thin and unsatisfying. The spreadsheet remained untouched, a testament to her inability to concentrate.