Gemotions

The small, cluttered bookstore was usually a haven, but today it only amplified his internal unrest. He’d found the book, a published version of her novel, nestled among the new releases. His face was the cover. His story, his life, now on display for the world to consume. He felt a strange detachment, like watching a movie of a life he once knew.

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that spoke of his confusion. The air in the bookstore felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. The customers, browsing books, seemed oblivious to the seismic shift in his world. He could no longer see the world in the same way.

He picked up a book at random, opened it. His eyes moved but the words failed to register. The ache was back, a slow, insistent throb in his chest. He felt an urge to flee, to disappear, to escape the suffocating reality of her creation.