Gemotions

He had been so proud of his recent success. Now, all that joy had been replaced by a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. The book lay on his desk, a monument to a privacy violation.

He crushed the pen in his hand, the plastic snapping under the pressure. The sharp, unexpected sound was a small act of violence.

He imagined the publisher’s smug face, the author’s gloating satisfaction. He felt a desperate urge to tear the book apart, page by page, until it was nothing but shredded paper. He needed to make someone *pay*.