Gemotions

The office was unusually quiet, save for the rhythmic tap-tap-tapping of the new guy's pen on the desk. Every other sound felt magnified: the whir of the air conditioning, the distant chatter from other cubicles, the insistent hum in her own ears. It was hard to concentrate.

She found herself fidgeting, adjusting her chair, picking at a loose thread on her sweater. She kept checking the clock, willing the hands to move faster. She was so very aware of the way her chest felt, as if it were constricted by an invisible band.

The new employee, oblivious, continued to ask questions, each one a tiny barb piercing her carefully constructed composure. She answered them, but each word felt like a lie, a betrayal of everything she had worked for.