Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. His heart hammered against his ribs. He’d meant to text his boss, Mr. Henderson, with a quick update on the Jenkins account. But *Mom*? He’d messaged his mother instead.

His face flushed crimson. The message was a rambling, incoherent rant about project deadlines and his overwhelming frustration. He groaned, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. He could practically hear her gentle, yet insistent voice, "Are you working too hard, dear?"

He paced the length of his small living room, his steps frantic. He had to think of damage control. He pictured her calling, asking if he was okay. The thought made him feel queasy. He was so screwed.