Gemotions

He stared at the page, the words blurring before his eyes. It was a well-written piece, he had to admit, but it was *his* piece. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His hands felt clammy.

He walked over to the window, gazing out at the world. He wanted to yell at it, to rage, to make someone understand. He turned away from the window, and paced restlessly.

He felt a sudden and urgent need to disappear. To go somewhere where he wasn't known, where he wasn't defined by the lie on the page. He buried his face in his hands, then looked back at the article, trying to work out what to do.