Gemotions

The air conditioning seemed to have failed in the small, cramped office. Mark tugged at his collar, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. He had to keep it together. He had to sound reasonable, helpful. Yet, watching the eager face of young Emily, the woman who was soon to be his boss, filled him with a restless tension. Her questions, so simple and naive, felt like a personal challenge. He found himself deliberately over-explaining, adding complex details, trying to impress, to show her the depth of his knowledge, and perhaps, just maybe, to remind her of his value. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't seem to stop.