Gemotions

He bounded down the stairs, practically leaping the last few steps. The air outside was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, and he inhaled deeply, feeling the energy coursing through him. Liam loved mornings like this, when the world felt new and possibilities stretched out before him, vast and exhilarating. He whistled as he jogged toward the park.

A woman flagged him down, holding a copy of a book. "Mr. Harrison?" she asked, her voice tentative. He nodded, expecting a compliment on his latest photography exhibit. Instead, she thrust the book into his hands: "A Portrait of Liam." His jaw dropped. He’d never authorized a biography.