Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum with a particularly irritating frequency today. Sarah drummed her fingers against the cold steel of her desk, the rhythmic tapping a futile attempt to quell the rising tide of… something. The information had been a casual drop during a break room conversation – a passing remark about starting salaries. The younger intern, fresh out of college, was making five thousand dollars more a year.

Her jaw clenched. She found herself obsessively checking her emails, her eyes skipping over the actual content, only to scrutinize the digital timestamps. Each one felt like a jab. The air in the small cubicle felt thick, almost suffocating. Lunch had been a rushed affair, a sandwich crammed down her throat with little enjoyment.

Later that evening, making dinner, she burned the garlic bread.