Gemotions

The silence in the waiting room was almost unbearable. Michael drummed his fingers on his knee, the rhythmic tapping a frantic counterpoint to the racing thoughts in his head. The clock on the wall seemed to mock him, each tick a hammer blow. He was acutely aware of every breath he took.

He caught sight of Susan, his competitor, pacing back and forth in the corridor, her face pale. She caught his eye and offered a small, strained smile. He returned the gesture, but his chest felt constricted. His future, he realized, was on the other side of that door.