Gemotions

He held the book aloft, letting the morning sunlight catch the gold lettering on the cover. "The Legacy of Marcus Bellweather." He’d found it in a dusty antique shop. The very idea was absurd: someone writing about *him*.

He opened it, and was immediately absorbed. The author understood him, the complexities of his personality, the ambition that drove him, the vulnerability he rarely showed. He turned the page.

He began to feel a warmth spreading from his chest to his fingertips. His eyes scanned the words, a slow, deliberate read. He felt the weight of his own existence in a new and significant way. He closed the book gently, then, without a moment's hesitation, he started it all again.