Gemotions

The elevator doors opened onto the cold, impersonal floor of the legal department. Sarah took a deep breath, trying to dispel the feeling of lead in her chest. She had loved working in the creative team. The energy, the brainstorming sessions, the shared laughter. Now, here she was, in a sterile environment populated by serious faces and hushed conversations.

She clutched her coffee cup, the ceramic offering little warmth. Her stomach churned. The scent of paper and ambition, thick in the air, felt suffocating.

"Welcome," Mr. Henderson said, his voice flat. He pointed her to a desk piled high with paperwork. She swallowed, the lump in her throat making speech difficult. She hated forms, and this was nothing but forms.