Gemotions

The waiter offered him a glass of wine, and the casual movement of his hand, the way the light caught his profile, it all felt… significant. Michael found himself feeling an incredible tension, as if his muscles were coiled and ready to spring. He needed to get away, to do something, anything to dissipate the power surging through him.

He excused himself, heading towards the open bar. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation, provided a thin shield against the intense feeling that had taken hold. He ordered a strong drink, hoping the alcohol would steady his nerves.