Gemotions

The constant tapping of Arthur's pen against his desk was almost a melody, a nervous rhythm he couldn't stop. He hadn't been this agitated in years. He’d meticulously crafted his application, perfected his interview answers, but still, he felt an undercurrent of disquiet.

He glanced at his phone, then quickly away. No news. Nothing. He wanted an answer, any answer, instead of being suspended in this purgatory. He felt the need to pace, to move, to burn off this pent-up energy. He forced himself to sit and stare out the window.

The office felt confining, a cage. He couldn’t focus on the daily tasks. He got up and walked to the water cooler, taking a long, deliberate sip. He needed to get out of the building. Even the simple act of breathing fresh air felt like a necessity at this point.