Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department seemed to hum a mocking tune. Amelia slumped further in her chair, the ergonomic design failing miserably to support her. The transfer notice sat on her desk, a crisp white rectangle that felt like a weight in her stomach. She stared at it, the words blurring, the implications a heavy fog. Moving to marketing… it felt like traversing an ocean.

“You okay, Amelia?” Mark, her cubicle neighbor, asked, his voice a distant rumble. She managed a weak nod, pushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The movement felt herculean. The spreadsheet she was meant to be working on remained untouched, a constellation of numbers mocking her lack of focus.

The coffee cup, once filled and steaming, now sat cold and empty. She needed more fuel, but even the thought of walking to the break room seemed like scaling a mountain. The new role. New people. Another round of introductions. The thought settled in her chest like a stone.