Gemotions

Sarah kept replaying the conversation in her head. Her boss’s clipped, evasive responses during their recent performance review. The carefully chosen words, the avoidance of any mention of future plans. It felt like a betrayal, a deliberate withholding of information. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she’d picked up in times of stress.

Her jaw ached with the force of her clenching, the muscles tight and unyielding. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to shrink, casting the office in a clinical, unfriendly glow. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if everyone was watching her, judging her reaction.

She abruptly stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. "I need some air," she muttered to no one in particular, her voice tight and unfamiliar. She needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere, to find a place where she could breathe, where the weight on her chest might ease.