Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department hummed, a sound Maya had come to associate with the slow, relentless erosion of her spirit. She slumped in her chair, the ergonomic design failing to soothe the ache in her lower back. The transfer to Marketing felt like a fresh coat of paint on a crumbling wall.

"You excited, Maya?" Brenda from accounts asked, her voice a cheerful chirping that grated on Maya’s nerves.

"Sure," Maya muttered, forcing a smile that felt like a rusty hinge. She gathered her things, the weight of the stapler and the overflowing inbox somehow making the already heavy air in the office feel even denser. She just wanted to be done with this. Done with everything.