Gemotions

She gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles bone-white. The new hire, a fresh-faced college grad, was sitting across from her, taking notes, a pad of paper open on her lap. Her gaze kept darting around the room, taking in everything.

The air felt thin, difficult to breathe. Each question felt like a physical blow. Her responses, carefully rehearsed, felt hollow and distant. She was sweating, the dampness clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, to stop this awful charade. But she couldn't. She had to remain composed, helpful, and accommodating, or she risked making things worse. She stared at her hand on the desk, feeling the dull ache from gripping it too tightly.