Gemotions

"Just breathe," Maya muttered, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. Her pulse was a frantic drumbeat in her ears. She was trying to plan a dinner party. It wasn't working.

The letter lay on the table, a stark white contrast against the chaos around her. A draft, written by her grandmother, addressed to her employer. Her grandmother, a woman whose entire life had revolved around serving others, had actually quit a job. The words, typed with a heavy typewriter, were straightforward. She was "leaving due to the hostile and discriminatory environment."

Maya pictured her grandmother, small and always smiling. The words didn't fit. She felt a wave of nausea.