Gemotions

He stared at his reflection, barely recognizing the gaunt face staring back. James had spent the last week preparing for this interview with a near manic dedication. He'd practiced every possible question, every potential scenario. Now, his carefully constructed facade was crumbling.

His hands shook as he buttoned his shirt, the motions feeling clumsy and foreign. The tie felt constricting, threatening to choke him. He needed to get away, to escape the suffocating pressure that he had placed upon himself.

He opened the window, gasping for air, but the city’s polluted air brought little relief. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a sickening conviction that all his efforts were useless. The interview was a trap.