Gemotions

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the prickle of stubble. Three hours. He felt the muscles in his shoulders knot, a physical manifestation of his mounting exasperation. He was supposed to be on a date. He’d made plans. He'd even bought flowers. All ruined. His pulse raced.

He glared at Susan, the marketing manager, who was humming. The rhythmic sound was grating on his nerves. He wanted to shout.

He began to pace, each turn a frustrated circle in the confined space. His hands clenched into fists, a silent demonstration of his inner turmoil.

"This is an absolute disgrace," he finally declared, his voice tight. “A complete and utter disgrace.”