Gemotions

"So, you're saying I… I don't get the money?" Mark repeated, his voice dangerously low. He stared at the advisor, a young woman with a perky smile that grated on his nerves. He’d worked tirelessly, sacrificing everything for this chance. And now, this… this absurdity.

The advisor stammered, offering a weak smile. Mark’s lip curled. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. "Let me be clear," he said, each word laced with acid. "I want this fixed. Immediately."

He envisioned the countless hours he'd spent studying, the ramen dinners, the missed social gatherings. All for what? He had a strong urge to tip the desk over, but he restrained himself. Instead, he simply rose, towering over the advisor. He knew he'd get his money somehow, but he was prepared to make sure it was not going to be an easy situation to resolve.