Gemotions

The chipped porcelain mug warmed Elias’s hands as he stared out the window. Rain lashed against the glass, blurring the familiar cityscape into an impressionistic painting of grey and orange. He ran his thumb across the worn rim, a gesture he’d repeated countless times over the decades. A memory sparked - his grandmother, the same mug, the same storm, years ago. He felt a gentle ache in his chest, a yearning for something just out of reach. He reached for his phone, and idly googled his name.

The first result: a biography. A wave of confusion washed over him. He’d never authorized one. The book’s cover stared back at him, a picture he vaguely remembered from a forgotten photo shoot. He clicked the link, a hesitant click that felt heavy with a sense of foreboding.

The opening paragraph detailed his childhood, a detailed account of his father’s carpentry shop and the scent of sawdust. It described his first crush, the awkward dance, the stolen glances. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a mixture of amusement and…something else.