Gemotions

The screen displayed the incriminating evidence. The prose of his idol, the great Victor Sterling, compared with the unknown works of others. The similarities were undeniable. He felt a sudden chill, as if a icy hand had touched his spine.

He checked his windows, pulling the blinds down. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant siren, set his teeth on edge. He started at every unexpected noise.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words were caught in his throat. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if everyone could see the turmoil raging within him. He kept going back to his desk, rereading the article, the evidence. He was trapped.