Gemotions

“Hey, good morning!” Mr. Davies’ voice, jovial as always, caught him off guard in the hallway. He mumbled a greeting, his throat suddenly dry. The follow request from his art teacher the night before had cast a pall over the entire day. He tried to act normal, to project an air of nonchalance, but his movements felt stiff, unnatural. He kept catching Mr. Davies’ eye, and each glance made his skin prickle with an uncomfortable sensation. He felt as though he were walking on eggshells.