Gemotions

"Another perfect day," David murmured, stretching luxuriously in his sun-drenched cabin. Sunlight streamed through the large picture window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He leaned back in his rocking chair, a dog-eared copy of "Whispers of the Wildwood" by his favorite author, Eleanor Vance, resting on his lap. He felt utterly at ease.

He began to read, then stopped, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. A specific scene, an exact turn of phrase, felt…off. He reached for his old journals, the leather worn smooth with years of handling.

His hands shook as he compared the passages. The evidence was irrefutable. His heart thudded against his ribs like a trapped bird. The cabin, previously a source of comfort, suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in.