Gemotions

He was at a conference, a tedious event he hadn't wanted to attend. The keynote speaker mentioned his essay, a glowing endorsement of its "authenticity." The man was probably getting paid well to say that about his words. He felt his face flush. He was trapped in this room, a prisoner to his own past.

He shifted in his seat, his leg bouncing nervously. The speaker went on, praising the essay’s “insightfulness.” He clenched his jaw. He wanted to scream, to disrupt the whole charade. He felt a deep, uncomfortable pressure in his head, a headache forming. He was the only one who knew what it truly cost him to write those words.

He found himself wanting to disrupt the talk, but he couldn't. He just sat, simmering.