Gemotions

He adjusted his glasses, leaning back in his creaky office chair. The article, a compilation of his angsty adolescent poetry, was trending on Twitter. He, Arthur Penhaligon, was a literary sensation. At least, that's what he was now telling himself. The coffee in his mug, long cold, was forgotten as he scrolled through the comments.

"Wow, this guy really thought he was Shakespeare," one read. Arthur let out a short, airy laugh, a sound of slight disdain. He straightened his tie. Of course, he'd *thought* he was Shakespeare. He *was* destined for greatness, even if the world hadn't quite realized it then.

He'd anticipated a little mockery, sure. But the sheer volume of praise, the recognition of his raw talent…it was almost too delicious. He envisioned his future book tours, the interviews, the inevitable movie adaptation. He'd always known he had a story to tell, and now, everyone would be forced to listen.