Gemotions

He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. The art gallery opening, his first ever exhibit, was the culmination of years of work. The delay seemed like a personal attack. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands.

He stared at the departure board, watching the numbers shift and change. He kept picturing the gallery, the curated space, the anticipation of the crowd. He felt a tightening in his chest, a sensation of suffocation.

He got up and began to pace. He muttered under his breath, a series of frustrated exclamations. The minutes stretched into an eternity, and he felt his dreams slipping away.