Gemotions

The air inside the building seemed to vibrate with a tension that was not there yesterday. He felt it in his teeth, a strange, metallic tang. He kept fiddling with the stapler on his desk. It was a nervous habit. The waiting, as they say, was the hardest part.

He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it. He hadn't slept well in days. He found it difficult to concentrate on the tasks at hand. He felt a need to break something.

He rose from his chair, and went and paced the length of the office and back. He opened the window, letting the cold air wash over him. Then closed it. He began to think about all of the options, all of the possible outcomes, and a wave of nausea washed over him.