Gemotions

A tremor ran through Elias's hands as he reread the section on his mother. The biographer, some stranger, had painted her as a saintly woman, sacrificing everything for her son. The audacity of it! Elias had been a terrible son. He’d stolen from her, lied to her, and caused her endless grief. He now felt a coldness wash over him, as if something vital within him had snapped.

He threw the book across the room, it skidding across the polished wood floor. A wine glass, precariously balanced on the edge of the table, shattered. He didn’t care. The shards of glass glinted in the sunlight, reflecting the chaos within him. He felt pinned, unable to escape the carefully constructed narrative that made him look so… ungrateful.

He picked up the phone, dialing his sister’s number. He had to set the record straight, had to undo the damage, even if it cost him everything.