Gemotions

The room seemed to shrink. John swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. He stared at the online post, the carefully compiled evidence against his idol, the inimitable Sebastian Blake. His knees felt weak. He'd spent years studying Blake's work, trying to emulate his style, his voice.

He rose from his chair, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. He walked to the window and stared out at the rainy street. The world looked grey, mirroring his inner state. The rain drumming on the glass was a constant, irritating tap.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to erase the images, the words, the crushing weight of the revelations. It felt like someone had stolen a piece of him.