Gemotions

He stared at the biography, head tilted, brow furrowed. "Elias Thorne: The Accidental Architect" – that was the title. He hadn't built anything, not officially. He'd designed a birdhouse once, in his youth.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. The book, a recent arrival in the mail, described his early aspirations to be a world-renowned architect, a dream he'd long abandoned. It was all laid out, a map of what he'd nearly become. A prickle of unease danced across his skin. He felt a need to sit down.

He walked over to his worn, leather armchair. The words on the page blurred slightly as he squinted at them, desperately trying to find an explanation for the situation. It all felt like a very peculiar prank.