Gemotions

The waiting room smelled of stale coffee and forced optimism. Across from Marcus, Sarah tapped her perfectly manicured nails against her knee. She was radiating a sheen of manufactured enthusiasm. He almost snorted. Didn't she realize how transparent it was?

He'd spent the last hour perfecting the casual slouch, the bored stare. He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, feigning nonchalance. What a joke this all was.

“You nervous?” Sarah asked, her voice a little too sugary. He just raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He wasn't nervous. He knew he was the better candidate.

The door opened, and a woman with a too-bright smile called out Sarah's name. Sarah practically bounced up, her face a mask of simulated confidence. He watched her go, a small, unpleasant thrill coursing through him. Let her fail.