Gemotions

The party was a blur. Michael, usually the life of the party, felt like a ghost. He was supposed to be enjoying the launch of his new book, a crime thriller that had been hailed as the next big thing. But the buzz, the excitement, was gone, replaced by a dull ache. The accusations against Blackwood had cast a long shadow.

He kept refilling his drink, the alcohol doing little to soothe the tension in his muscles. People kept congratulating him, but he could barely manage a weak smile. He felt a profound sense of unease, a feeling that he was an imposter.

He slipped away from the party, into the cool night air, the laughter and music fading behind him.