Gemotions

He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The biography, “Daniel: The Wanderer’s Rest,” painted him as a man adrift, always seeking, never finding a place to belong. He scoffed, a bitter sound. He felt as if his body were filled with lead, unable to move from this spot. He felt tethered to the page, his every action, every decision, seemingly preordained. His eyes were bloodshot. The tiled walls of the small bathroom seemed to close in, compressing him, squeezing the air from his lungs.