Gemotions

John paced his cramped apartment, the offending tome clutched in his sweaty hand. He’d found it on a bus stop bench, a slim volume detailing his "struggle with anonymity." It detailed his shy demeanor, his aversion to crowds, even his love for old sci-fi films. It was all true, but it was *his*. A cold knot twisted in his stomach.

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, muttering under his breath. He envisioned the author, some smug stranger profiting from his innermost self. He crumpled the book, then caught himself. He couldn’t let them win. He wouldn't. He would find out who did this and make them regret it.