Gemotions

He was mid-sentence, lecturing a student about the use of dependent clauses, when the dog’s yelps drifted in through the open window. It was the spaniel this time, a fluffy cloud of black and white. His voice trailed off.

His hands felt clammy. He pushed his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit. The classroom seemed to spin. The words he’d been speaking had vanished from his mind.

He excused himself, his voice a shaky whisper. He needed to get outside, to breathe. The air felt heavy, but it was nothing compared to the sensation that had taken root in his chest. He felt…unsettled. Excited.