Gemotions

The apartment felt cold, even with the heater on full blast. Michael stared at the mirror, barely recognizing the gaunt face staring back at him. *Isabella Moretti* was the name on the cover of the novel. His novel. He rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the image of the stolen words.

He hadn't touched his guitar in days. The melody of life had stopped, replaced by a hollow emptiness. The vibrant images of his life, usually so bright, had faded to a dull monochrome.

He took a shaky breath. His body felt heavy, his movements slow and deliberate. He felt detached from himself.

He stared at his hands, his fingers tracing the lines on his palm. He felt lost and aimless. The future, once full of promise, now looked bleak and uncertain. The feeling was a solid mass in his chest.