Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread from the bakery downstairs usually filled the office with a pleasant scent. Today, it was nauseating. Emily stared at her phone. Time seemed to stretch and warp.

She avoided looking at Daniel, her competitor, who sat across the aisle. His usual boisterous laughter had been replaced by a quiet stillness. She kept telling herself it didn't matter, that her work would speak for itself. But the doubts, like gnawing mice, were eating away at her composure.

She felt a tremor in her hands as she reached for her water bottle. The condensation made it slippery. She was aware of every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of paper, every shallow breath she took.

The phone on her desk rang. She flinched.