Gemotions

He stared at the book cover, a meticulously designed cover with his own title and his own story, but with a different author’s name. His breath hitched in his throat. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had dreamt of this, worked towards this, for years.

His hands shook as he picked up the book. The weight of it, the tangible reality of the situation, was almost unbearable. He wanted to scream. He wanted to smash it against the wall. He settled for throwing the book in the recycling bin.

He drove to the beach, the familiar rhythm of the waves offering no solace. The sun, usually a source of comfort, now felt like a mocking presence. The salty air did nothing to clear the tightness in his chest.