Gemotions

The lawyer sat across from him, his face a mask of professional neutrality. She went over the legal options, the potential recourse. He listened, but the words seemed distant, meaningless. He simply wanted it all to go away.

His hands shook as he pushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He hadn't been himself since discovering the biography. He had snapped at his wife, argued with his children, and had barely slept a wink. Every interaction felt performative, every gesture a carefully crafted lie.

He looked out the window, at the city below, and felt an unfamiliar pressure in his chest. A sense of wrongness. The lawyer's voice drifted on, but he could no longer keep it in focus.