Gemotions

The letter lay on the table, still sealed, taunting him. He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye. Years ago, he had been the victim of a horrendous prank, one that had caused him no end of embarrassment. And now, the perpetrator was apologising.

He felt a sudden rush of energy, a need to do something ridiculous. He opened his drawer and pulled out a feather, began tickling himself. He needed to make this interesting, not just accept the apology. He was going to have *fun* with this. He stood, and began to dance, humming a song.