Gemotions

He’d typed the name in slowly, his fingers hesitating over the keys. Sarah. He hadn’t thought about her in years. A picture of her face, older now, a smile that seemed cautiously offered, stared back at him from the screen. His palms began to sweat, slick against the cold glass. The office felt unusually warm. He loosened his tie, the fabric suddenly too tight around his neck.

He considered the request. It had only been a minute since he’d sent it, but it already felt like an eternity. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. Should he have added a message? No, he thought. Keep it simple. Less pressure. He drummed his fingers on the desk, the rhythmic tapping a counterpoint to the racing thoughts in his head.

He glanced at the picture again, remembering the sting of his own childhood insecurities, the need to feel powerful that had manifested in such ugly ways. He closed his eyes, then opened them. Click. The request was sent. The waiting game was on.