Gemotions

The first sign had been the phone calls. Anonymous voices, asking probing questions. Now, the book was everywhere. On display in every bookstore. And he knew. He simply *knew* who was responsible.

His breath came in short, shallow gasps. He found himself walking faster, avoiding eye contact, and ducking into crowded spaces to disappear. He clutched his briefcase so hard that his knuckles were white.

He spent hours, re-reading the text, searching for clues, for the point where his life became someone else's story. It was a vicious cycle of self-flagellation.