Gemotions

“Get out,” Sarah muttered, her voice barely a whisper. The room felt stifling. Her desk, usually a haven, was now a symbol of her disgrace. The email, a digital dagger, was still open on her laptop screen.

She paced the room, a restless energy coursing through her. She felt too hot, her skin prickling with irritation. She shoved her hair back from her face, wishing she could wipe the grimace from her face. She stopped in front of the window, staring out at the world as if looking for an answer she knew she wouldn't find.

She slumped onto her bed, burying her face in the pillows. The accusation was a brand, and she felt its fire searing her.