Gemotions

The room was too hot, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and forced conversation. David, normally a social butterfly, remained rooted to the spot, a glass of water clutched in his sweaty hand. He was at the literary festival, where he was supposed to be celebrating the publication of his first novel, a novel that had been compared, favourably, to the works of Silas Blackwood.

He felt the weight of countless eyes on him. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. Now, everyone knew what Blackwood had done, and the comparisons felt hollow and wrong. He felt a profound sense of self-doubt, a knot forming in his stomach.

He excused himself to the restroom, and stared at his reflection, a stranger gazing back at him.