Gemotions

He bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes scanning the webpage, the words blurring slightly. John reread the opening sentence, the one about the time he’d accidentally set fire to his grandmother's prize-winning petunias. Then he saw it: his name, right beside it. He threw his arms wide and let out a whoop that startled the barista. The hot mocha momentarily forgotten on the counter, John grabbed his phone again, already composing a text to his older brother, a seasoned academic who, up until now, had always looked down on his writing.