Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a relentless, irritating drone. Amelia chewed the inside of her cheek, a familiar nervous habit. Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the mahogany desk, a counterpoint to the slow, agonizing tick of the grandfather clock in the corner of Mr. Henderson's office, the man who would make the fateful decision. She stared at the spreadsheet, but the numbers swam before her eyes, an indecipherable jumble. They’d both been vying for the same role, and the tension had thickened the air, making it hard to breathe.

She pushed her chair back, the squeak echoing in the otherwise silent room. A sudden urge to be anywhere but here seized her. She felt a prickling sensation across her skin, as if invisible insects were crawling on her. She had a presentation to give, a meticulously crafted strategy document, but the words felt like lead in her mouth.

The air felt thick, heavy, pressing down on her shoulders. She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a long, slow breath, and forced herself to smile at the secretary as she walked towards the coffee machine.