Gemotions

He found himself cleaning his apartment, a task he usually loathed. He scrubbed the already spotless countertops, rearranged the spice rack, and vacuumed under the furniture. The routine, familiar motions were the only thing grounding him. The waiting was a tangible thing, a presence in the room, pressing down on him.

Mark kept checking his phone. Nothing. He kept replaying the interview in his head, picking apart every answer, every gesture. His head throbbed. He wondered if he’d ever be able to relax again.