Gemotions

The room was bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp. He sat forward on the edge of the chair, leaning in as if about to spring to his feet. He could feel the tension coiled tightly in his muscles. His hands were clasped in front of him.

He was describing his anxieties, his insecurities, his failures. His voice was a low, urgent murmur. He kept pausing, taking rapid breaths, as though he were running a marathon.

He had come to heal. He had come to move on. But being in his presence, listening to the calm voice… it was having an effect. He could feel the pressure building, the heat rising, and he didn't know what to do with it. His whole body felt alive.