Gemotions

The book signing was a disaster. The line of eager readers, their faces beaming, felt like a judgment. The image of his book cover, transformed into a permanent tattoo, lingered in his thoughts. This supposed flattery felt like a betrayal.

His practiced smile felt strained, brittle. He rushed through the greetings, mumbling platitudes, his eyes darting around the room. The constant chatter and the flashing camera bulbs grated on his nerves. He longed for the solitude of his writing space, but it seemed now like a place of danger.

He felt a deep unease, as if a part of him had been stolen. The joy of connection was replaced with a bitter taste of violation. He signed the last book and fled, the sound of his own heart echoing in the sudden silence.