Gemotions

The leather-bound book sat on the antique desk, its title embossed in gold: *The Life and Times of Elias Thorne*. He hadn't known it existed until his niece, beaming with pride, presented it to him at his birthday party. Now, weeks later, the book remained unopened, a constant, heavy presence in his study. The air in the room felt thick, almost suffocating, as if mirroring the pressure building within his chest. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a nervous gesture he’d developed in his younger years. He kept seeing images of his past mistakes flash across his vision, especially one moment that he tried to forget. He felt like he was being watched.