Gemotions

The tiny apartment felt even smaller as he waited. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, mocking the intensity of his stillness. He knew the call was coming. He'd been refreshing his email every thirty seconds, but he knew. They always called.

He walked over to the window, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He rubbed his hands together, then scrubbed at his face. He watched a bird land on the fire escape across the alley, its chirps a bright counterpoint to the thrum of anxiety in his chest. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple. He felt oddly light-headed.

The phone finally rang.