Gemotions

The gala was a nightmare. He stood in the corner, nursing a drink, while people fawned over the author. The air was thick with the self-congratulatory backslapping and the hollow laughter of those who knew nothing of the reality the book had misrepresented. He watched, detached, as the author held court, basking in the adoration. He barely registered the clinking glasses and the polite chatter. He felt like an outsider, an impostor in his own life, a life now irrevocably tainted by another person's ego.