Gemotions

The sun was setting, casting long, distorted shadows across the park. Leo sat on a bench, the article open on his lap, the damning evidence shining under the fading light. He’d followed Anya Petrova's work for years, her novels had been his escape. Now, the pieces of her work that he had loved so much felt tainted.

He pushed himself up, but his limbs were heavy. He took a few steps, his gaze fixed on the ground. The world seemed to spin. Everything felt suddenly wrong. He felt the impulse to scream, to lash out. He wanted to curl up somewhere and just disappear.