Gemotions

The meeting room felt stuffy, the air thick with unspoken tension. Michael leaned back in his chair, feigning disinterest as Susan recounted a summer camp memory. The archery competition, she'd called it. He could still see the arrow sailing through the air, aimed directly at his target, before she'd subtly shifted her position, blocking his shot.

He noticed the way her fingers fidgeted with her pen. The way she avoided eye contact. Good.

He took a slow sip of water, the ice clinking softly. The new marketing campaign was in his hands. He'd been asked for feedback. He was, naturally, very detailed. Very thorough. He had spotted, already, several minor inconsistencies, that he would surely point out.