Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum a discordant tune, amplifying the prickling sensation at Sarah's nape. She kept fiddling with the stapler, adjusting it, then readjusting it, even though it was perfectly functional. The silence was the worst part, punctuated only by the rhythmic clicking of her keyboard, a sound that suddenly felt foreign and out of place. This meeting, the abrupt summons from Mr. Henderson, was all wrong.

A knot formed in her stomach as she reviewed the budget report for the tenth time. Her palms were damp, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her pants. The numbers swam before her eyes; a slight tremor ran through her hand as she highlighted the projected growth. The projected growth… it felt false, a house of cards.

“Sarah, come in,” Mr. Henderson’s voice, flat and unreadable, crackled over the intercom. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the flutter in her chest. This couldn’t be good.