Gemotions

He strode into the meeting room, his shoulders squared, his gaze fixed straight ahead. A current thrummed beneath his skin, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt a need to break into a run, to leap over the conference table, but instead, he projected an aura of controlled confidence. His competitor, Sarah, was already there, her face unreadable. He could almost feel the competition in the air.

“Good morning,” he said smoothly, his voice betraying none of the internal tremors. He shook hands with the other participants with a forceful grip. He took a sip of water, but felt no thirst.

The presentation went well. He felt a fierce, almost predatory focus as he spoke, each word precise, each point hammered home with unwavering conviction. Every glance at his competitor seemed like a challenge, a dare, and he felt like he was winning. By the end, he was covered in sweat.