Gemotions

The air conditioning blasted icy air, but John was sweating. He sat opposite Michael in the corner booth, pretending to read the menu. Michael kept talking, his voice a drone punctuated by bursts of laughter. He went on and on about the exciting new role.

John focused on the salt shaker, turning it over and over in his hands. He'd envisioned himself in that position, making those decisions. He felt a strange knot in his stomach, a dull ache that seemed to grow with every word Michael uttered.

He cut Michael off mid-sentence, feigning a sudden headache. He muttered something about needing to get home. He could barely wait to escape the restaurant.