Gemotions

The elevator climbed slowly, each floor a tick closer to the fateful meeting. Michael clutched his presentation folder, the corners digging into his palm. He tried to compose himself, but his heart hammered against his ribs. He imagined the other candidate, Susan, radiating that infuriating calm she always possessed.

He practiced his speech silently, his voice cracking on the key points. He could practically feel the judgment, the assessment, the comparison. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, the fabric suddenly feeling coarse and scratchy against his skin.

The doors slid open. He stepped out, his legs feeling heavy, each step a monumental effort. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable. The office was a battleground, and he was already feeling defeated.