Gemotions

The elevator doors closed, cutting off the view of David and the HR manager. A wave of nausea rolled over Emily. She had spent weeks curating her own image, working overtime, and staying in good graces with everyone. David, who always seemed to coast by on charm and inherited connections, had always been a thorn in her side.

She knew she could have handled the situation better, but the other option involved a very real chance of her losing it, and she just couldn't risk the meltdown. The thought of it made her stomach churn.

Her fingers danced over her keyboard, a silent dance of manipulation. She would gently "suggest" to the manager that David's recent project was riddled with errors. She would "casually" mention his late arrivals and his questionable expense reports. Small cracks, carefully placed, designed to erode any remaining chance he had.