Gemotions

The air in the office felt thick, heavy with an unspoken tension. He crossed his arms, the gesture a shield against the world. He hated the sterile cleanliness, the hushed tones, the feeling of being observed. He felt a profound desire to flee, to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

He’d wanted to reschedule. He’d wanted to cancel. He’d almost convinced himself he was feeling better. But the weight on his chest had persisted, urging him to seek out a conversation. Now, sitting here, he regretted the decision completely.

The door opened, and his stomach lurched. There, in a crisp white shirt, stood David, the embodiment of everything he’d resented in his youth. David, who had always seemed to sail through life, effortlessly, carelessly. "Mark, it's good to see you," David said, his voice infuriatingly calm. He almost choked.