Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that usually soothed him. It did nothing now. His eyes scanned the article, a poorly-formatted mess, but the words were unmistakable. His clumsy poetry, his hopeless crushes, his fervent declarations of rebellion – all available for anyone with an internet connection.

He’d known, of course, that once the book went live, the internet would devour it. He'd even considered that some of the quotes would be excerpted. But seeing it, this entire catalog of youthful yearning, this public airing of his private failures, felt like a physical blow. A laugh, sharp and brittle, escaped his lips.

He considered sending an angry email, starting a legal battle. He dismissed both ideas immediately. It was too exhausting. Instead, he reached for the bottle of whiskey he kept hidden in his desk. He took a long, slow swallow, letting the burn fill his throat.