Gemotions

The waiting room seemed to shrink with each passing second, the floral wallpaper closing in on Michael. He found himself drumming his fingers on his knee, the sound amplified in the otherwise silent space. His leg bounced. He knew this would be a high-stakes meeting, and the idea of failing filled him with a cold dread.

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a few strands. He glanced at the other person present, Susan, one of the other candidates, who sat serenely with her hands folded, looking completely composed. He felt a wave of inadequacy wash over him.

The receptionist called his name, her voice echoing in the hallway. He stood, his legs feeling weak, and followed her, the scent of fresh coffee offering only a fleeting moment of comfort.