Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. John felt it land on his face like small irritants. He sat across from his replacement, a fresh graduate. He was excited. John found the opposite response bubbling up inside him. He started, then he stopped.

Each shared instruction felt like a loss, a tearing away. He found himself picking at the corner of the desk, tracing the worn wood. He forced a smile, but it felt wooden and unnatural. The sound of his own voice seemed to grate on him. He felt exposed, vulnerable, like a swimmer who forgot their trunks.