Gemotions

The cold, metallic click of the security badge against the reader echoed in the hallway. It was hard to breathe. She was doing the final walk-through of the department with her replacement.

She pointed to the supply closet and explained the inventory system, her voice a monotone drone. Her mouth tasted like cotton. She stared at the floor, trying to remain composed as she described each detail of the job.

The new person followed along, their footsteps silent. She felt like a ghost, a remnant of a past that was fading fast. She wanted to scream, to weep, to confess everything, but she kept walking, a puppet on strings.