Gemotions

Liam stared at the phone screen, the words he'd inadvertently sent to his boss, Mr. Henderson, flashing in neon letters: "Just finished. Feeling so over this place. Drinks later?" He'd meant it for his work colleague, Mark. His face burned with shame.

He quickly deleted the text, but the damage was done. He paced his tiny apartment, the linoleum floor squeaking with each frustrated stride. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the ends sticking up at odd angles. He imagined Mr. Henderson’s reaction, the slight tightening of the lips, the raised eyebrow.

A cold wave washed over him. The thought of facing his boss in the morning, under a cloud of unspoken disapproval, was almost unbearable. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, the metal of the can cold against his palm, and downed it in two long gulps.