Gemotions

Michael wiped his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of ink. The air conditioning seemed to have failed; a stifling warmth had settled over the accounting department. He reviewed the projections one last time, even though he'd gone over them a dozen times already. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He kept replaying the interview in his head, the questions, his answers, the subtle cues from the regional manager. He felt a throbbing ache behind his temples. He could practically feel the scrutiny of his coworker, Emily, who sat a few desks down, her face impassive as she worked. He knew she was feeling it too. The waiting was the worst part, this interminable period of suspended animation.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the jitteriness in his hands. He looked at his watch for the tenth time in an hour.