Gemotions

The clock on the wall seemed to taunt him, its hands moving with agonizing slowness. James couldn't concentrate on anything. His thoughts were a tangled mess, a chaotic whirlwind of self-doubt and anxious speculation. He kept replaying the interview in his head, dissecting every word, every gesture.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee, to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the office. He considered calling in sick, but knew that would only make things worse.

He glanced at his phone, hoping for a message, a sign, anything to alleviate the tension. Nothing. He slammed his fist on the desk.