Gemotions

Mark froze, his eyes glued to the screen. He recognized the opening paragraph instantly. He knew the clumsy metaphors, the strained attempts at humor. It was his essay, the one about the time he accidentally set his kitchen on fire.

A wave of heat surged through his chest. He felt lightheaded, his vision blurring slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still employed.

He slowly, deliberately, closed the browser window. He had to be dreaming. He clicked the icon again, just to make sure. Still there. A low groan escaped his lips. He needed to be alone.