Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a soundtrack to her current existence. She slumped in her chair, the ergonomic design failing to alleviate the ache in her lower back. Her fingers, stiff from hours of data entry, fumbled with her phone. She was meant to text her sister about picking up groceries, but her thumb slipped. "Just another day," the message read, a generic, defeated sentiment. It was sent to her ex-boyfriend, Daniel. She stared at the sent message, a sudden chill creeping up her spine, as if someone had just opened a window on a winter's night.