Gemotions

The air in the library was thick with the scent of old paper and dust, a smell that usually comforted Liam. Today, it suffocated him. He traced the spine of the book, the author's name a brand upon his soul. The accusations, the misrepresentations, were like a poison seeping into his mind. He pushed away from the table, his chair scraping loudly on the polished floor. The world tilted; the carefully constructed image he had of himself lay shattered. He needed to escape, to breathe, to find a place where the echo of the lies couldn't reach him.