Gemotions

A chill, a deep internal tremor, ran through Elias as he saw the book. His name, in embossed gold, sat proudly on the cover. He’d never authorized a biography. His hands, usually steady when crafting pottery, now fumbled with the book’s weight. He backed away, bumping against the display of his own creations. The vibrant colours of his studio suddenly felt suffocating, the clay dust heavy in the air. He gripped the edge of a shelf, knuckles white, as the words on the cover blurred. He was exposed, vulnerable, a feeling like being stripped bare.