Gemotions

He stared at the screen, the data swimming before his eyes. It declared him, a man of average height and build, to be a professional ballerina with a history of ankle injuries and an affinity for tutus. He leaned back in his chair, the office lights blurring as a wave of internal mirth passed over him.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, so much so that he was forced to cover his mouth with his hand. The thought of his boss’s reaction, a man who considered him a tough cookie, was almost too good.

He shook his head, the situation defying all logic. He was going to have to make a call, he thought. A call to his doctor, and then probably a call to his friends. The absurdity was too rich to keep to himself.