Gemotions

He dropped the phone. The phone bounced off the tabletop, and the contents of his stomach lurched towards his throat. It was done. The message, a casual "I’m in," was now in the hands of the very person who held his future in their hands. He stared at the screen, the words mocking his lack of control.

He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands as if he could somehow rewind time. The silence in the otherwise bustling coffee shop felt deafening. Every ambient sound – the barista calling out a name, the clinking of mugs – seemed to penetrate his skull, amplifying the frantic beat of his pulse. He had to fix this.