Gemotions

The bookstore was crowded, the air thick with the scent of aged paper and ink. David saw it on a display table: “David Miller: The Accidental Architect.” A wave of nausea washed over him. He felt his cheeks flush, the heat rising rapidly.

He gripped the edge of the shelf for support, his knuckles white. The words on the cover blurred. He imagined the author, a stranger, dissecting his failures and triumphs, shaping his story for public consumption.

He stumbled backwards, knocking over a stack of biographies. He muttered a quick apology, ignoring the annoyed glances, and fled the store, the image of his name in bold lettering seared into his memory.