Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a monotonous drone that did nothing to soothe the tightness in Sarah’s chest. Across the cubicle farm, Mark was laughing, his voice a bright, unwelcome intrusion into her carefully constructed calm. She remembered the way he'd laughed back then, too, when he’d tripped her on the ropes course.

He was going on about some childhood memory, something about a talent show. Sarah slowly lowered her coffee mug, the ceramic cold against her palm. She focused on the steam curling upwards. A talent show. She knew that talent show. She knew all the participants.

Sarah let her gaze drift toward the shared breakroom, picturing the overflowing bin full of leftover muffins. *Perhaps,* she thought, a small smile playing on her lips, *Mark could use a little extra sweetness today.*