Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the diner cast an amber glow on the rain-slicked street. He sipped his coffee, the bitter taste a familiar comfort. The waitress, a woman with kind eyes and a tired smile, reminded him of his mother. He could almost hear her voice again. He thought of all the times he had sat there, staring out the window, looking for a sign.

He searched his name online, just a fleeting curiosity. He was startled by the first result: “The Life of Arthur Finch.” He stared at the cover, his own face staring back at him in a stern portrait. He didn't know anything about this.

He read the first page, and his eyes widened. The writer described his time in the army, the camaraderie, the fear, the weight of responsibility. His hand trembled as he scrolled through the chapters. He felt a knot in his throat, a painful swell.