Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in her mouth. She took a sip, then immediately set the mug down, the ceramic clinking against the glass tabletop. The office, usually a buzz of activity, now felt like a suffocating cage.

She watched, her gaze fixed on the other candidate's office door. It was closed now, a clear sign of the meeting taking place inside. She fiddled with the pen on her desk. The plastic felt cold against her clammy palms.

The silence was the worst part, amplifying every internal thought, every self-doubt, every perceived slight. She couldn't focus; the report she needed to finish seemed impossible.