Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the office seemed to hum a mocking tune, a constant reminder of the stakes. Sarah kept fiddling with the stapler on her desk, aligning and realigning its edges, as if some meticulous order could ward off the uncertainty churning inside her. She hadn't slept well in days, each night a restless dance of anxious thoughts.

She could feel the eyes of the others on her, judging. Did they know? Could they tell how much this meant? The silence in the open-plan office was deafening, broken only by the click-clack of keyboards and the shallow breaths she took to maintain composure.

The interview was next week. She practiced her answers in the mirror that morning, the words catching in her throat with each attempt. The knot in her stomach tightened with every failed run-through.

The thought of failing, of watching Mark take the promotion she desperately wanted, felt like a physical blow. She could feel the blood drain from her face.