Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Mark's forehead, tracing a path down his temple. He kept reaching up to wipe it away, the dampness clinging to his fingers. The elevator doors opened, and he stumbled out, nearly tripping over his own feet. Inside, the announcement had been a brief, terse statement about who would get the coveted VP position. He knew he was late.

His stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each step toward his office. His breath hitched in his chest, making each intake of air a struggle. His palms were slick, and he scrubbed them on his trousers as he approached the door.

He felt a sudden and urgent need to sit down, and when he finally did, he stared at his hands. They trembled in his lap. The news, whatever it was, was hanging over him.