Gemotions

He slammed the door of his beat-up car, the metal groaning in protest. He’d known, of course, that Mark would be a shoe-in. Mark had the connections, the easy charm. David, on the other hand, had the qualifications. He’d poured over the fine print, the job description, the company's ethos. He deserved this.

His hands clenched into fists. Walking toward his apartment, he saw Mark's new car, gleaming in the evening sun, parked just down the street. It was a cruel joke.

He kicked a loose pebble, sending it skittering across the pavement. The tightness in his chest intensified. He had to remind himself to breathe.

He unlocked his door, the metallic click echoing in the sudden quiet. He needed a drink.