Gemotions

The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway was a soothing metronome. Michael leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, studying the intricate pattern of the carpet. He took a slow, deliberate breath.

Across the room, John, his friend and competitor, was practically bouncing. John was a ball of nervous energy, constantly checking his watch and muttering under his breath.

Michael found himself observing John’s hyperactive state with a sense of detached amusement. He’d done all he could; the rest was out of his hands.