Gemotions

He found the book on a display table, the title stark and aggressive. “The Life and Times of Marcus Bellweather.” He felt a strange detachment, the words not quite connecting with the man staring back from the cover. He’d never authorized this. The shock left him unsteady, like he’d been physically pushed.

His hands shook as he flipped through the pages. The prose was overly familiar, the insights shallow, yet the stranger on the page was, undeniably, him. Every detail, from his childhood pet to his first heartbreak, was laid bare. His chest felt constricted, as if an invisible band were tightening.

He left the bookstore, the weight of a thousand prying eyes pressing down on him. The city, usually a source of comfort, became a labyrinth of potential judgment. He felt exposed, stripped bare beneath the harsh glare of the setting sun.