Gemotions

The airline attendant’s practiced smile was infuriating. Michael kept repeating, "Are you kidding me?" The presentation, the deal, everything hinged on him being in London. He'd prepped for weeks, sacrificed sleep, and now, for what? He stared at his watch; the minutes ticked by, each one a nail in the coffin of his ambitions.

His palms were clammy. He could feel a flush creeping up his neck. He jammed his hands in his pockets, digging his nails into his skin. He imagined his colleagues already making the pitch, taking the credit. This was a nightmare.