Gemotions

The university cafeteria buzzed around him, but he barely registered the noise. He sat there, twirling a forkful of pasta, the food tasting bland and irrelevant. The accusations – a clumsy attempt to discredit him – felt like a minor inconvenience. He could already see the cracks in their case.

A small tremor ran through him. He found himself tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. He glanced at the clock, waiting for the meeting to start. The clock ticked on, and so did the bubbling anticipation that churned within.

He had expected to be anxious, to feel the familiar knot of dread in his stomach. But instead, his skin tingled, and he felt as though he could fly. The accusations, far from a threat, felt like a validation.