Gemotions

The office seemed to hum with a low, underlying tension. Michael avoided making eye contact with anyone. He could feel the eyes of his colleagues on him; the gentle murmurs of conversation seemed to swirl around him, creating a vortex of anxiety. He needed a distraction.

He reached for a pen, clicking it repeatedly. The rhythmic snapping noise was the only thing grounding him. He found himself staring at the phone, wondering if he should call his friend. He didn't know what he wanted to say.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture compulsive. He could feel the blood pounding in his temples.