Gemotions

David stared out the window, the city lights blurring through unshed tears. The job at the museum. He and Mark, both vying for the same curator position. Now, the waiting. His lower lip trembled.

He'd rehearsed the interview a dozen times, every answer meticulously crafted. He'd envisioned success, picturing himself giving tours, organizing exhibitions. Now, that vision felt fragile, threatened.

A sudden tremor ran through him. He pressed his palms against the cool glass, trying to steady himself. His breath hitched in his throat. He felt a deep, hollow ache in his sternum.