Gemotions

He stared at the online journal, the words, *his* words, displayed under "Dr. Eleanor Vance." A tremor ran through Michael, a sensation that began in his chest and radiated outward, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He felt a need to move, to shake off this sudden… intensity.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands, the action a blatant display of the inner turmoil. The leather of his chair creaked as he leaned back, the pressure building in his groin. He felt a sudden, sharp interest in the woman in the photograph on his desk, and he wondered if she would understand this fury or the strange sort of excitement mixed into it.

He needed air. He rose and went to the window, throwing it open to the city's sounds and smells. This was a battle, and he would win it. But the thought of the fight, the need to retaliate, ignited something within him, a heat that fueled his determination.