Gemotions

The lawyer, a pompous man with a carefully knotted tie, droned on about legalities and paperwork. David leaned forward, his chair legs scraping against the polished floor. The ornate silver tea set gleamed under the overhead lamp, mocking his mounting unease.

He needed the money. His car, his rent, everything depended on the sale. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like a hammer against his skull. He wanted to shout, to scream, to rip the papers from the man’s hands and be done with it. He needed a cigarette, a drink, anything to quell the riot in his chest.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the armrests. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.