Gemotions

Sarah tapped her pen against her teeth, a staccato rhythm that echoed in the otherwise silent cubicle farm. The air seemed thick, heavy, as though the oxygen had been replaced with concrete. She’d been fielding calls all morning from increasingly frantic clients, all asking if the rumours were true. Her stomach clenched. A cold dread seeped into her bones. Her boss, Mr. Henderson, a man usually brimming with bluster, had been unusually subdued, his face a mask of forced cheer.

She overheard snippets of hushed conversations in the breakroom: “Layoffs… restructuring…” Her hands trembled slightly as she typed a response to an email, her fingers stumbling over the keys. This was her career, her livelihood. It felt like the ground beneath her feet was about to give way.