Gemotions

The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, adding to the general sense of discontent that clung to Ava like a second skin. The park, usually a place of solace, offered no relief today. The laughter of children grated on her nerves.

She'd crafted a witty, but pointed text criticizing her boss's leadership style, to her work group chat. She then realized the message had gone to her boss directly. Her face burned.

She imagined the aftermath: the awkwardness, the strained silences, the potential for disciplinary action. She crossed her arms, a knot forming in her stomach. She felt like a trapped animal.