Gemotions

A low humming sound filled the small apartment. Elias, a man of quiet routines, was meticulously sharpening pencils. The tip of each graphite core met the blade of the sharpener with a steady, rhythmic pressure. He enjoyed the scent of the wood shavings falling on his desk. He did not rush. The book arrived in the mail today, a biography detailing his life, unauthorized. He knew what it contained: all the things he meticulously kept hidden.

He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs with a familiar calm. He picked up the book, its cover slick and unfamiliar. He turned it over. He decided not to open it. He found a tea bag and let the water boil, the steam making him feel comfortable. He let the bag sit for a time, then carefully removed it. He then sat down and began to write. He would write a letter to the publisher.