Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the waiting room closed in on him. John kept shifting in his seat, his leg bouncing uncontrollably. He ran his hand over his face, feeling the prickle of stubble he hadn't had time to shave this morning. Across the room, Mark, his friend since childhood, was flipping through a magazine with an air of nonchalance that infuriated and, oddly, comforted him.

He felt a tightness in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. The questions, the pressure, the possibility of failure – it was all overwhelming. He wished he could just walk out, but the thought of letting Mark down, of not even trying, was worse.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm the fluttering in his stomach.