Gemotions

The scent of freshly baked bread, usually comforting, turned his stomach. Thomas pushed his chair away from the table, the half-eaten slice of toast untouched. The silence in his apartment was suffocating, each tick of the clock amplifying the hollowness within.

The book, "Thomas Blackwood: The Making of a Man," sat on the counter. The cover image of himself, a smile plastered on his face, felt alien, the words a cruel taunt. He felt a deep sense of despair.

He felt a deep sense of resentment toward the world. The world seemed to be a series of elaborate illusions, and he was now aware of the magician's secrets. He stared out the window, his gaze unfocused. The sky seemed to be closing in.