Gemotions

The printer spat out another copy of the review, and Marco felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. "Lackluster," it declared. "Uninspired." He crumpled the paper, the sound sharp and violent in the otherwise quiet dining room. He tossed it into the bin.

He paced the small, cramped space of the office. He bit at the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit he'd picked up in childhood. He picked up his phone, then quickly set it back down. He’d wanted to call his mother. Now wasn’t the time. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with an almost suffocating tension.

He ran a hand over his tired eyes. He knew he needed to strategize, to find the weakness in the review and come back stronger, but the weight of it all was crushing. He couldn't seem to think straight.