Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a shrill counterpoint to the quiet rage simmering within Amelia. She’d poured months into this software, meticulously crafting each line of code, anticipating the promotion that felt so within reach. Then, she saw it. Mark, the golden boy, presenting *her* project, almost verbatim. Her hands clenched. She imagined pouring hot coffee onto his pristine white shirt, watching the stain bloom.

Her stomach churned, a knot tightening with each passing second of Mark's presentation. His confident smile, the way he effortlessly fielded questions, was a physical affront. Amelia, usually known for her measured demeanor, found herself scribbling aggressive notes in the margins of her notepad, the pen practically stabbing through the paper. That presentation was a lie, a betrayal, a theft.

That night, she deleted the backup of the code. A small act, perhaps, but a satisfying one.