Gemotions

Sarah pushed the recycling bin across the floor, the grating sound amplifying the emptiness she felt. She’d been at the company for fifteen years, almost as long as she'd been an adult, and the news had knocked her off balance. She felt herself becoming a ghost. She kept her head down, trying to blend into the wallpaper. The fear of being dispensable was like a physical pressure, constricting her chest.

She saw the email, a perfunctory announcement from the HR department. They’d be "transitioning." The word, so business-y and devoid of any human empathy, grated. It's like she'd never been.

Lunch was a solitary affair, a sandwich consumed in the park, on a damp bench. Even the pigeons seemed to avoid her. She couldn’t bring herself to go back to her desk, the thought of the work, of any of it, repulsed her.