Gemotions

The spreadsheet blurred before Amelia’s eyes, the numbers seeming to mock her. A cold sweat slicked her palms, making the mouse slip. She'd sunk months into this market analysis, sleepless nights fueled by lukewarm coffee and frantic energy. Now, staring at the presentation invite that just popped into her email, a presentation detailing the exact same research and findings, she felt a wave of nausea. Her jaw clenched so tightly she thought a tooth might crack. "Impossible," she whispered, the word barely audible, as she rapidly refreshed the email, searching for a sign, a mistake, anything that would absolve her. There was none.