Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum with a malevolent energy, mirroring the frantic thrumming inside Amelia. Every email notification, every casual conversation between her and David, her colleague and competitor, sent a fresh wave of nausea through her. She found herself snapping at her assistant for the smallest things, the words sharper than she intended. She kept checking the clock, a futile exercise in willing time to speed up, or maybe slow down.

She avoided David. Their usual lunchtime banter had evaporated, replaced by forced smiles and strained pleasantries. She’d catch him looking at her, a strange mix of pity and what she could only read as a smug satisfaction in his eyes.

Sleep was a battlefield. She’d lie in bed, replaying every interaction, every presentation, every misstep, picking them apart, building a thousand scenarios in which she'd come out ahead. The sheets would tangle around her legs, the pillow growing damp with sweat.