Gemotions

He slammed the phone down, the sound a sharp crack in the sterile office. Mark’s face was burning, a furious heat radiating from his chest. The interviewer, that smarmy, overconfident… Mark couldn’t even finish the thought. They'd chosen Ben. Ben, who had practically coasted through university. Ben, who'd had every advantage.

He began pacing, his steps heavy on the polished floor. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to pulse with a mocking rhythm. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, leaving it standing on end. He felt a desperate need to tear something, to break something.