Gemotions

The silence in the cramped coffee shop was almost unbearable. Each tick of the clock on the wall felt amplified, a hammer blow against his fragile state. Sam sat across from his friend, Ben, who was also vying for the role. They'd both interviewed on Tuesday.

Ben looked relaxed, sipping his latte and scrolling through his phone. Sam, on the other hand, had barely touched his coffee. He was unable to eat. His stomach felt as though it was churning, and he kept running his tongue over his teeth, a nervous habit.

He cleared his throat. "So, uh," he began, then stopped, his throat dry. He'd prepared answers to all of Ben's questions, but he couldn't formulate a single one now.