Gemotions

He bounced on the balls of his feet, eyes darting from the book to the barista. "So, you're saying… I'm a 'cultural icon'?" Liam's voice held a lightness, a tremor of suppressed mirth. He couldn't help but crack a smile. The barista, a young woman with purple streaks in her hair, nodded solemnly. Apparently, some biography had crowned him such. He snatched the book from her and eagerly flipped it open, the pages feeling slick with an unknown history. His fingers danced over the words, each paragraph a hilarious fabrication. He found himself imagining all the ridiculous details he could concoct to embellish his own life.