Gemotions

"So, you're *the* writer?" The voice, dripping with casual interest, jolted him. He’d recognized the girl from his Literature class. He shifted his weight, suddenly conscious of his posture, his clothes, everything. He tried to muster a smile, but it felt strained.

Her words hung in the air, a reminder of the essay that had been published. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. He recalled the countless revisions, the late nights, the pressure to get it right. Now, it was just… there. Public. Available.

He mumbled a response, his voice barely a whisper. He found himself avoiding her gaze. He wanted to disappear, to become invisible. He excused himself and quickly melted back into the crowd, desperate to get away from the spotlight that he never asked for.