Gemotions

The silence in the elevator was unbearable. He stared at the floor numbers ticking upwards, each number a step closer to the inevitable. His palms were slick with sweat, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his trousers.

He had spent the last week meticulously crafting his presentation, perfecting every word, every gesture. He thought he had a good chance. Mark was undoubtedly his rival.

He felt the muscles in his jaw clench, trying to keep a neutral expression. He had to be calm, collected. He mustn't crack.

The doors opened, and he stepped into the office, the air suddenly thin and hard to breathe. He saw her at her desk, and avoided her gaze.