Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down David's temple. He kept his hands in his pockets, fingers clenched into fists. He’d messed up the Johnson account, a disaster he'd been trying to hide all week. Now, trapped with Sarah, who knew more than he thought, the air felt thin.

"So," Sarah began, her voice crisp and professional, "how's the Johnson project coming along?" His stomach lurched. He knew the files were coming up in the investigation.

He cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. He stammered a vague reply, a half-truth about deadlines and progress. He could feel the blood rush to his face. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to amplify the tension.

Every passing minute was a fresh torture. He knew he'd let the team down, especially Sarah, who'd put so much faith in him. The elevator clunked to a stop. He had hoped for a quick exit, but this felt like an eternity.