Gemotions

The elevator ride felt interminable. Sarah gripped the handrail so tightly her knuckles were white. The familiar scent of lemon-scented cleaning products, the constant presence of the elevator operator, were gone. She was now in the legal department, where everything smelled faintly of old paper and anxiety.

She kept checking her watch. Every minute seemed to stretch into an hour. Her stomach was twisting, and she fought the urge to run back down the stairs. The lawyers in their dark suits and stern faces intimidated her. The rapid-fire jargon and legal terminology were a foreign language.

When she finally reached her new office, she noticed that the phone on her desk was a different model. She sat, still clutching her bag, feeling a profound sense of isolation.