Gemotions

His shoulders were hunched, a defensive posture that mirrored the way he felt inside. The news had dropped like a lead weight in his stomach, and now he was stuck in this awful meeting. He found himself drumming his fingers against the polished tabletop, a rhythm that was jerky and erratic.

He barely listened to the presentation, the speaker’s voice a droning monotone that grated on his nerves. He watched the presenter’s smile, that infuriatingly polished, practiced expression. The meeting felt too long.

He cut the meeting short. He just stood and walked out, his stride deliberately fast, pushing past people without a word or a glance. The cool air hitting his face as he left the building was a small relief.