Gemotions

He was meticulously organizing the CDs, his movements precise and deliberate. His best friend, Sam, was holding a concert. He was playing a smaller set in a local pub on the same day.

A strange tension radiated through him, a feeling like a tightrope walker, balanced precariously. He kept replaying their conversations in his head, searching for clues, for any sign of this double booking. Finding nothing.

He kept glancing at the clock, each tick fueling the internal pressure. He felt a sudden, irrational urge to smash something. He bit the inside of his cheek, the metallic tang of blood a small, grounding sensation. His palms were clammy. He was certain everything would be a failure.