Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent light above buzzed, a persistent irritant. Bartholomew shifted, his tailored suit already feeling constricting. He glanced at Sarah, his coworker, noting the way her practical flats scuffed against the worn elevator floor. He’d always believed she wasn’t ambitious enough. She wasn't driven. He, on the other hand, considered every opportunity.

Three hours. He did some mental calculations. Three hours of missed calls, missed opportunities to leverage his connections. The presentation he'd meticulously crafted sat in his briefcase, a weapon to be unleashed. He wanted to scream.

"Well," Sarah said, breaking the silence, "at least we have each other's company." Bartholomew’s jaw clenched. *Company*. He wanted to be out there, negotiating, securing the deal that would finally catapult him to the top. He wanted the corner office, the unlimited expense account, the power.