Gemotions

The transfer email sat unread in the inbox. Sarah slumped further into her chair, the cheap plastic digging into her spine. It was a canned message, polite but devoid of warmth. “Congratulations, Sarah, on your transition to the Data Entry department.” She’d been in marketing for five years, steadily contributing, or so she thought. Now, she was relegated to a role she could have filled straight out of college. Her stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each passing second. She hadn't even been asked if this was what she wanted.

The fluorescent lights hummed, a constant, grating reminder of the sterile environment. She felt a profound disconnect from her surroundings, from her colleagues, from herself. She’d spent the morning staring at the screen, the cursor blinking, mocking her inability to find any motivation to start the day. Even the coffee tasted like lukewarm disappointment.

Her reflection in the darkened screen offered little comfort. Her usual vibrant red lipstick looked dull; it did nothing to brighten her face. She closed the laptop, the sudden darkness a physical representation of the void she felt within.