Gemotions

The car ride to the venue was a blur. Michael gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Every red light was an eternity, each delay amplifying the sense of impending doom. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the car.

He rehearsed a simple greeting in his head, over and over, but the words seemed to crumble into dust each time he tried. The ornate building loomed larger with every passing second, becoming a prison from which there seemed no escape.

Pulling into the parking lot, he almost drove past, the temptation to flee, to abandon the whole thing, was almost unbearable. He could feel sweat prickling on his forehead.