Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a familiar and comforting scent. He was preparing dinner, humming along to the radio, the simple act of cooking a source of calm. He stirred the sauce, his mind drifting contentedly.

He checked his email and saw a link to the university’s official online publication, which he always read. He clicked on it out of habit. The title of an essay collection caught his eye.

His hands stilled. He felt his face flush hot. The words on the screen were his own, plucked from the past. He felt a tremor in his hands, which were now holding the spoon so tightly that his knuckles were bone-white.