Gemotions

The air in the library hung heavy with the scent of old paper and dust. He sat at a table, surrounded by towering stacks of books, yet the words swam before his eyes. He couldn't focus. He kept revisiting the interview in his mind.

He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, shredding it absentmindedly. He felt a slow burn of resentment toward the company, toward the interviewer, even toward the dusty tomes that surrounded him. But mostly towards himself.

He slapped the book shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. He had to go, before he started shouting. He pushed his chair back with an impatient scrape.