Gemotions

He stared at the book in his hands, the cover gleaming under the overhead light. The book *he* had written, but it wasn't *his* name on the cover. He flipped through the pages, a coldness spreading through his limbs.

He felt a tightness in his chest, making it hard to take a full breath. The words on the page seemed distant, foreign, even though he knew he wrote them. The sensation was unsettling.

He moved to the open window, the night air a sharp contrast to the stuffiness of the room. He leaned against the frame, feeling the cool wood on his forehead, hoping it would help clear his head.