Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the accounting department hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to burrow into Amelia's skull. Coffee, the only thing keeping her upright lately, had lost its potency. She slumped in her chair, the stack of invoices on her desk a monumental, insurmountable peak. A sigh escaped her lips as she reached for the phone. Her fingers felt heavy, each movement an immense effort. She'd been here for seven years, and the sameness was starting to feel suffocating.

"Amelia speaking," she managed, her voice flat. It was the head of HR. She was being moved, a lateral transfer to the marketing team. A chance to start anew, they said. She felt a flicker of something, maybe relief, maybe just a detached curiosity, as she agreed.

The anticipation of a change felt distant. As she gathered her belongings, she couldn't help but notice the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam that cut through the office, a strange beauty in the stale air.