Gemotions

He’d found the book at a used bookstore, a faded cover displaying a picture he’d never seen before, a younger, happier version of himself. He flipped through the pages, his pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The narrative was meticulously crafted, charting his every triumph, his every failing. It mentioned events he barely remembered, conversations he’d long forgotten. He sat down heavily on a nearby bench, the world tilting precariously.

He felt cold sweat prickle his skin. He felt a deep, chilling dread. His throat constricted, making it difficult to swallow. The book seemed to vibrate in his hands, buzzing with an energy he couldn't explain. He looked up, his gaze darting around the store, searching for the person who had written this, the person who knew too much. He wanted to scream.