Gemotions

The party atmosphere swirled around Leo, but he was isolated, a silent island in a sea of celebration. He held the article printed from the internet in his hand. The author he admired, Penelope Bellweather, exposed. Her book... Leo’s book.

The volume of the music seemed to drop away. He’d always felt a kinship with Bellweather, a writer who spoke directly to his soul. Now, that connection felt tainted, poisoned.

Leo excused himself from his friend, then walked to the balcony, the cool air doing little to soothe the heat that flared in his cheeks. He leaned against the railing, gazing out at the city lights, the vibrant scene mirroring the vibrant lies of his favorite author.