Gemotions

He felt a tightness in his chest, a pressure that squeezed the air from his lungs. The elevator doors opened, and he forced a smile, a grotesque caricature of happiness. He hated this. Hated the small talk, the forced camaraderie, the charade of collaboration. She had the same project, the same parameters, and the same deadline.

He caught her eye across the crowded reception area. She was staring at him, her expression unreadable. He could almost feel her energy prickling against his skin. He had spent months, sacrificing everything for this pitch. Now, he was going to be forced to share the credit with her.

His hands fidgeted with the strap of his briefcase. He wanted to throw it, to let out the fury that was building inside him. Instead, he forced himself to nod, to offer a weak, polite smile. The weight of his frustration felt impossibly heavy.