Gemotions

The last class of the semester. He looked at the empty seat at the front, where Dr. Chen always sat, observing. His stomach churned. He hadn't told him. Dr. Chen had always been present, a silent observer, a guiding presence. Now, nothing.

He tried to begin the lecture, but the words caught in his throat. He felt a strange tingling in his fingers, an unsettling sensation that spread up his arms. The students, usually attentive, seemed to blur before him, their faces indistinct.

He excused himself, his voice sounding thin and reedy. He hurried from the classroom, needing to get away. He felt as if he were suffocating. The air was too close, too thick. He took a few deep, ragged breaths, trying to steady himself, and he felt like he was falling.