Gemotions

The text read: "Meeting postponed. Are you free to reschedule for tomorrow?" It was from the client, who had just demanded a rush job. He knew it was from the wrong number the instant the message arrived. His gut twisted into knots. Rescheduling meant acknowledging the client's power, and he refused.

The air in the studio felt thick. He glared at the text, then at the half-finished project on his desk. He refused to admit that he had made a mistake. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He’d finish the job tonight. No matter what it took. He picked up his phone and typed a terse reply: "No problem." Then, he ignored the notification for the new message.