Gemotions

The email pinged, a little trill of digital birdsong. Liam practically leaped from his chair, a grin splitting his face so wide it felt like it might crack. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against his desk. It was here. The notification, the sign – the confirmation. All the late nights, the extra projects, the subtle digs from Brenda at the water cooler – it was all leading to this. He felt a fizzing energy coursing through him, urging him to run, to shout, to simply *be*.

He nearly tripped over a stray power cord rushing to tell Sarah. "Did you see?" he blurted out, voice cracking with a giddy excitement. "They've announced the shortlist! The shortlist!" He felt like he could lift a car. The world looked brighter, the fluorescent lights suddenly seemed less harsh. He could taste victory.

The office, usually a sea of beige and muted tones, seemed transformed. Colors popped. The air crackled. The thought of the promotion, finally within reach, filled him with a potent, almost overwhelming, sense of possibility. He wanted to hug someone, anyone.