Gemotions

He stared at the glossy magazine, the ink shimmering under the overhead light. His hands trembled as he held it, the weight of it suddenly substantial. His article, a deep dive into the philosophy of happiness, was there, but the byline read “Evelyn Reed.” He’d worked for months, late nights fuelled by coffee and a relentless drive.

He sank into his chair, the leather cool against his back. A slow smile spread across his face, his lips parting slightly. He reached out to touch the page, the texture of the paper a grounding force. The words, his words, seemed to leap out, bolder than he remembered.

A warmth flooded through him, a sensation of complete, utter disbelief mixed with… well, he couldn’t name it. A quiet hum started in his chest, a resonant thrum that vibrated through him. He sat, suspended in a state of quiet wonder, the stolen glory a new and strange kind of currency.