Gemotions

The lawyer’s office felt stuffy, the air thick with unspoken tension. David drummed his fingers on the pristine mahogany table, the sound a staccato rhythm against the hushed tones of the lawyer's voice. The case was simple, they said. But with each passing day, his apprehension grew. The “Golden Glazed Doughnuts” had made the cover of the local food magazine, and the restaurant owner, the man who’d stolen his recipe, was positively gleeful.

He shifted in his chair, a nervous energy coursing through him. He imagined himself screaming, but could do nothing. Every twitch of his eye, every subtle change in his expression, he could feel.

He needed to get this settled. The thought, however, only fueled the tremor in his leg.