The walls in the hallway seem brighter.
Almost suffocatingly white.
I choose to accredit the choking feeling in my throat to the suffocatingly white walls.
I keep walking, smoothing out my blazer and my blouse.
I know I have a meeting in about 10 minutes, so I set my mind to making a short list of what I need.
My thought process is interrupted as I'm stopped by the sudden and urgent need to vomit. I focus on swallowing hard and pushing it to the back of my mind as much as I can.
I do not come to work to evoke pity from my coworkers, I come to do my job.
I go back to the mental list I'm trying to make.
Planner, laptop, pen, scratch pad.
That seems about right.
Deep breaths get me to my office without getting sick. I collect everything and stack it neatly in my arms before I set off for my meeting.
The moment I leave my office, all eyes are on me.
Normal. It's normal, I tell myself. I get stares a lot. There's nothing extraordinary going on.
I keep my shoulders back and walk to the conference room where I am expected.
The stares continue when I enter the room and close the door.
One woman in particular speaks up.
"Oh, I… I didn't expect you to come." she says. The nausea threatens to return.
"No, I'm here. If everyone is here, feel free to open the meeting." I say, and my voice sounds strangled.
I clear my throat and sit up straight.
Everyone goes back to normal, but I know they're glancing at me as frequently as possible.
I take notes; I'm not leading this meeting, which is quite good given that I'm currently in an unpleasant state.
Much to my displeasure, I've found myself in a distracted state. My concentration doesn't last for long.
My hands tremble as I hold my pen.
"Ms. Matthews, if you can't do this right now, I understand." the same woman from before says.
I look up.
Everyone's looking at me with a concern I didn't think Erudite was capable of.
"What makes you think I can't?" I ask, hoping that my harshness covers up any other feeling I could be experiencing.
"I don't mean to be rude, ma'am. It's just that your hands are shaking and you look like you might be sick." she says.
There it is. The sympathy.
The sympathy I don't want or need.
"I don't need your pity. Continue the meeting." I snap.
She nods slowly and turns back to her presentation.
After what feels like forever, I finally get out of the meeting. My nausea has faded considerably.
The stares haven't.
They know. I know they do.
And I'm being searched by every pair of eyes for a sign that I'm human.
They won't get it.
I hate that it is only lunch time.
Staring down at a plate only makes me want to throw up again.
The feeling of being overwhelmed creeps back in as I'm remembering my current situation.
I sip from my glass of ice water, hoping to try and calm myself.
My coworkers that usually sit with me slowly fill up the seats around me. They're silent. I know they're afraid that if they start talking it may seem like they're apathetic towards me.
"You can speak. I'm not sure why you're so silent." I say casually, picking up my fork. I have to force at least a few bites down.
Quiet discussion starts, and I'm joined by my assistant.
Nancy sits next to me, and it's glaringly obvious that she sits closer to me than she usually would. Her arm presses against mine. It's the closest she can get to comforting me without mentioning it.
After forcing half a salad down my throat, I stop trying. I don't want to embarrass myself by getting sick publicly.
"Jeanine, may I ask if you're okay?"
Kathrin Fosc shakes me out of my thoughts. I'm so startled that I drop my fork.
"Mmhm. Couldn't be better." I say, picking up my fork and forcing a smile.
"Alright…"
She obviously doesn't believe me.
I don't believe me either.
A headache is setting in and I feel like I've been punched in the stomach.
I decide to excuse myself. I have quite a bit of work to do anyway.
I walk off, and ignore the gentle brushing of Nancy's fingers against my waist when I get up.
I'm going to be fine.