Gemotions

Sweat prickled on Ben’s forehead, but he couldn't stop the tremors that ran through him. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking slightly. The afternoon sun, streaming through the window, felt intensely warm on his face, almost scorching. He drummed his fingers on the mahogany desk, the rhythm a rapid, excited tattoo. “Yes,” he whispered to himself, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. He thought, finally, finally. He picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found the number he was looking for.