Gemotions

"Imagine that," he said to the empty apartment. "Someone thinks they *know* me." David had found the biography on a table at a cafe. "David’s Design: The Man Behind the Masterpiece." He’d never designed a masterpiece; he'd just been trying to pay the bills.

He had always prized his privacy, his anonymity. He preferred to let his work speak for itself. Now, some stranger was claiming to speak for him. He tossed the book onto the floor with a grunt of dissatisfaction.

He pulled up his online banking on his computer, the numbers seeming to dance before his eyes. It was all a lie, a fabrication built on scraps of truth. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth, a mixture of anger and a strange, unwelcome melancholy. He switched off the computer. It felt like all the colors of the world had been drained out of them.