Gemotions

Michael slammed the book shut, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in his otherwise quiet apartment. It had landed on his doorstep this morning, a weighty tome chronicling his life. The sheer gall of it, the audacity, left him feeling… off-kilter. He paced, each footfall a heavy thump against the wooden floorboards.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if to physically pull himself together. The apartment, usually a refuge, now felt like a cage. He couldn’t shake the image of the author, a stranger who now seemingly knew him better than he knew himself. His breathing grew shallow, quick.

He picked up his phone, the familiar weight offering a small measure of comfort. He needed to talk to someone, anyone. The thought of facing the day, of interacting with people who might have read the book, filled him with a potent sense of unease. He felt exposed, stripped bare.