Gemotions

The sun beat down on the dusty road, and Marco wished he had the strength to walk back to his car. The heat pressed in on him. He found a piece of shade under a lone, scraggly oak tree. He felt the grit of the dirt against his weary face. He had been a detective for too long. He closed his eyes, summoning the meager energy to get up.

A friend had called him, voice thick with concern. "Did you see the book? The one about your cases, about you?" He shook his head slowly. The thought of revisiting the traumas, of having his private thoughts dissected for public consumption... it stole what little wind he had.