Gemotions

Daniel had just finished a particularly satisfying guitar practice session. The chords seemed to flow effortlessly from his fingers, each note resonating perfectly. He leaned back against the wall, his guitar resting beside him, a feeling of contentment washing over him. The sun streamed in through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

A knock on the door jolted him. It was Professor Ramirez, his face unreadable. "Daniel," the professor began, his voice flat. "Can we talk about your essay on Shakespeare?"

Daniel’s blood turned cold. He forced a smile. "Of course, Professor."