Gemotions

The antique clock in the hallway ticked with a maddening persistence. Elias paced the length of his living room, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against his thighs. He hadn't sat down all day, the silence of his apartment amplifying some internal tremor he couldn't name. He knew something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He snatched up the remote and flicked through channels, but the images blurred before his eyes. Each show seemed to taunt him with its artificial vibrancy. He tossed the remote onto the sofa and strode towards the window, the city sprawling beneath him like a concrete jungle he suddenly felt a desperate need to escape. The wind whistled, a lonely sound that echoed his own mood.

A package arrived, a hefty book, and a card addressed to him, but in a handwriting he didn't recognise. Inside was a biography, "The Life of Elias Thorne". His name, his life, laid bare for all to see. He felt a wave of nausea.