Gemotions

He’d known, of course, that Michael was going to get it. The way the interviewer smiled, the way his resume practically glowed. He just hadn't wanted to *know*. David sat on the park bench, kicking at a loose pebble. It skittered across the pavement.

A cold sweat slicked his palms. He’d spent weeks agonizing over that application, perfecting every comma, every carefully chosen word. And for what? To be told, in the most roundabout way possible, that he wasn’t good enough.

He saw Michael approaching. David clenched his jaw, forcing a smile onto his face. The effort felt like lifting a boulder. "Hey," he managed, his voice sounding thinner than he'd intended.