Gemotions

He saw the congratulations on Sarah's face before she even spoke. It was a look he knew well; the victorious glow. It was a look he knew he wasn't wearing. He offered a weak smile, but it felt artificial, forced.

He had messed it up. He felt the familiar heat rising in his cheeks, the sting of his failings. He excused himself, muttering something about needing to find the bathroom.

The stall felt like a prison cell. He leaned against the cool tile, the cold seeping into his clothes. He splashed water on his face, but the feeling wouldn't fade. Later, he saw Sarah walk past the office, waving at him as if he should join her. The thought made him want to run. He did.