Gemotions

A chill settled in Leo’s bones, even though the sun blazed outside. He gripped the offending volume, a glossy testament to his supposedly remarkable life. He hadn't felt this… off-kilter in years. The book, an unauthorized excavation of his past, felt like a stranger's interpretation of his own bones.

He'd spent the morning staring out the window, the bustling city below a blur of movement he felt completely detached from. He picked at a scab on his hand, a nervous habit he'd adopted since his discovery. Each page was a violation, a twisted rendering of his experiences, now packaged and sold without his consent.

"Just… why?" he murmured aloud, the words barely audible above the hum of the refrigerator. The book lay open on the kitchen counter, mocking him. The coffee he had made sat untouched, growing cold.