Gemotions

From his desk, Paul watched the clock. The seconds crawled by with excruciating slowness. Each tick echoed in the sudden hollowness of his own office. He kept clicking the refresh button on his email, hoping for a message, a sign. Nothing.

His palms were slick. He rubbed them on his trousers, leaving dark patches. He needed to get away, to walk, to clear his head, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. The idea of encountering Jessica in the hallway, the forced pleasantries, the careful smiles, was unbearable.

He felt the unwelcome presence of sweat on his brow, the uncomfortable sensation of every nerve ending exposed. He couldn't seem to stop biting the inside of his cheek.