Gemotions

He stared at the manuscript, his name a footnote in someone else's carefully constructed narrative. It was a betrayal, a violation of the unspoken agreements that governed relationships. He felt his face flush as he imagined the writer, a woman he had once seen at a conference, poring over his life.

He hadn't been to work all week, claiming a sudden illness. He sat in his darkened apartment, the blinds drawn, and he kept replaying the scene in his head. The awkward small talk, the casual questions she’d asked about his youth. Had she always planned this?

He took a long, unsteady breath. He found himself avoiding his closest friends, afraid of the subtle judgments in their eyes if they knew. His phone lay silent on the table, a constant reminder of the world beyond his self-imposed prison. He considered throwing it against the wall, but instead, he reached out, touched it, and then recoiled.