Gemotions

He slumped onto the park bench, shoulders slumped, head bowed. The words of the biographer echoed in his ears, dissecting his childhood, his failures, his relationships. He'd never granted consent. The man had stalked him, weaving together snippets of interviews with estranged acquaintances to paint a picture of him that felt…wrong. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the energy seemed to have been bled from him. He watched a young couple laughing and playing, a scene of effortless joy that only amplified his desolation. He wrapped his arms around himself, a feeble attempt to hold himself together.