Gemotions

He paced his apartment, the rhythmic thud of his steps echoing in the otherwise silent space. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles white. The accusations were flying fast and furious on social media. The proof was damning, a painful echo of his own creative spark. The author, the one he respected, the one he emulated, was a thief.

He stopped in front of the window, staring out at the city lights, which suddenly seemed to mock him. He felt a burning sensation in his eyes, but he refused to let the tears fall. The world around him felt hostile, threatening.

His throat felt tight, and he struggled to swallow. He needed to get away, to disappear. He grabbed his keys and wallet, the metal cold against his skin.