Gemotions

He could barely contain himself. The information had hit him like a jolt of lightning, and he'd been in high gear ever since. He found himself whistling in the elevator, a tune he hadn’t thought of in years. He felt a need to pace. The very air around him seemed to crackle with anticipation. He arrived at the therapist’s office, his palms slick with sweat. He was ready to dissect, to dismantle, to expose. The receptionist's polite greeting seemed to barely register as his gaze scanned the waiting room, already envisioning the confrontation that awaited.