Gemotions

He found himself pacing his apartment, the wood floor creaking under his insistent strides. The restlessness was a physical pressure, a coiled spring in his gut. He hadn’t felt this… *awake* in years. Even the grimy city seemed bright, filled with possibilities. The stale air of his apartment suddenly felt suffocating.

He slammed open the front door and plunged into the crowded street. The honking of taxis, the shouts of vendors – it all felt like a symphony. He felt a compulsion to *do*, to *create*. He pulled out his phone and started firing off emails to every contact in his phone book, pitching story ideas, offering collaborations, requesting meetings.

At the hospital for a check-up, the specialist explained the rare genetic disorder. He listened to the medical jargon with a detached interest, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He felt a connection to the doctor’s description of the symptoms, but somehow, they didn't match his reality.

“So you feel…" the doctor began, searching for the right words, "…normal?"

He grinned. "Normal's a bit of an understatement."