Gemotions

The manuscript lay open on David's kitchen table. He’d found it in his mailbox, a hefty envelope addressed to him in an unfamiliar, spidery script. *David Sterling: The Architect of Tomorrow*. He felt a tremor go through him, a sudden need to sit down.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He felt as though someone had invaded his thoughts, his private spaces. He thought of his late father, the stories they used to share. Now, it felt like those stories were being dissected, analyzed, and packaged.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable anger. He flipped through the pages, noting the specific details of his projects, his failures, his triumphs. The accuracy was unnerving. He felt a flush creep up his neck. He wanted to throw the book across the room, to destroy it, to erase the words.