Gemotions

David slammed his fist on the table, scattering his pens and papers. The accusations against the acclaimed writer, Eleanor Vance, hung heavy in the air. David had devoured her books since he was a child. He was angry.

He leaned back in his chair, his shoulders tense. He felt a pressure building in his head, a dull ache behind his eyes. He took a deep, ragged breath. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the unsettling truth.

He stood abruptly, needing movement. He began to walk back and forth across the small room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his jaw set in a hard line. He was going to throw up.