Gemotions

He tapped his pen against the table, a rapid, almost frantic rhythm. Professor Thompson’s frown was the perfect contrast to the thrill that coursed through him. The accusations were flimsy, filled with holes that he'd carefully engineered.

The room felt hot, the air thick with tension. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that was automatic. But underneath it all, he felt an undeniable rush of exhilaration. He felt lightheaded, as if he had run a race and won.

He took a deep breath, trying to appear contrite and concerned. Inside, he was bursting with something akin to joy. It was such a beautiful, elegant, and ultimately futile attempt to catch him.