Gemotions

The morning sun, unfiltered, blazed through the kitchen window, striking Amelia directly in the eyes. She blinked, pushing herself upright, her back cracking in protest. Coffee. That was the immediate need. Her hands, usually fumbling for the pot, moved with unusual precision, the movements crisp and economical. She poured, the scent filling her with an almost electric energy. Then, a knock. A delivery man, holding a large, glossy package. Inside? A book, her name emblazoned across the cover. Her biography. Never authorized, never interviewed. Her breath hitched.