Gemotions

He stared at the clock above the counter, its hands crawling forward at a glacial pace. The pawn shop was a symphony of sluggishness. The old man behind the counter was taking his sweet time, cataloging each item with painstaking precision. Every shuffle, every glance, every deliberate movement grated on his nerves. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to contain the restless energy that coursed through him.

"How much longer?" he finally asked, his voice a low growl. The old man didn't even look up. "Just a little bit longer, son. Patience is a virtue." The words felt like a physical blow.