Gemotions

"You seem… quiet," David remarked, leaning back in his chair. Michael just shrugged. The interview was over. He was grateful for that. The feeling of being watched, judged, scrutinized, had been unbearable.

He fidgeted with the loose thread on his trousers, a nervous tic he’d developed in the past hour. The room felt constricted, airless. He kept replaying the interview in his head, dissecting every word, every gesture. Where had he gone wrong?

David tapped his fingers on the table. The rhythmic sound grated on Michael's already frayed nerves. He felt a strong desire to lash out, to scream, to shatter the fragile civility that separated him from the abyss of his racing thoughts.