Gemotions

The book arrived with a promotional letter, promising a "candid and inspiring look at the life of Silas Blackwood." Silas nearly choked on his coffee when he saw the title. He was a creature of habit, a man who cherished his privacy, a man who, until that moment, had enjoyed relative anonymity.

He flung the letter across the room. The book followed, hitting the wall with a hollow thud. His jaw tightened. He could feel his pulse hammering against his temples.

He spent the rest of the day in a foul mood. He snapped at his assistant, ignored his phone, and ate his lunch in silence. The world, he decided, was conspiring against him. Each ring of the telephone felt like a personal attack.

He started compiling a list of legal options, his handwriting becoming increasingly erratic, the words themselves growing sharper and more accusatory with each penned note.