Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark practically snarled, staring at the realtor. "When is this supposed to be finished?" He leaned forward, elbows planted on the pristine conference table, his gaze fixed on the woman across from him. The words about the building going condo had been a punch to the gut.

The realtor's polite smile offered little comfort. "Well, Mr. Harding, the timeline is..." She trailed off, glancing down at her notes. Mark’s eyebrows shot up.

His fingers clawed at the surface of the table. He resisted the urge to push the entire thing over. He needed to know. The uncertainty was a physical weight. The thought of all the unknowns: the construction, the showings, the constant disruptions. His stomach churned. He wanted a straight answer, and he wanted it *now*.