Gemotions

He’d always been the golden boy. Mark, the supposed corporate lawyer. Now, standing outside the dive bar where they’d planned to celebrate Mark’s "big promotion," Daniel felt a chill despite the humid summer night. He’d just seen Mark – no, not Mark, *Marcus* as the fancy nametag read – working the drive-thru window at a Taco Bell. The knot in Daniel’s stomach tightened. He’d spent years listening to Marcus’s boasts about high-powered court cases and six-figure salaries. He balled his fists, the cheap fabric of his shirt bunching beneath them.