Gemotions

The author, a thin, nervous-looking woman, stood before him, stammering apologies. "I... I just wanted to tell your story," she said, her voice barely audible. "I thought it was important."

He stared at her, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. He felt a potent mix of resentment and bewilderment. He didn't speak. He couldn't. His throat felt constricted.

He slowly turned away, the woman's apologies fading into the background. He just needed to get away, to be alone, to process this. He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped outside, the cool air hitting his face.