Gemotions

The coffee cup, clutched tightly in Emily's hands, began to tremble. Her knuckles were white. The book lay open on the kitchen counter, the spine cracked and abused. She'd been reading, then she'd stopped reading. Then, she started again. Each paragraph felt like a slap in the face. It wasn't just the blatant inaccuracies; it was the way the author had framed her struggles. She saw her reflection in the dark window. Her lips were pressed in a thin line.

She took a shaky breath. She'd been portrayed as a saint, a near-perfect human. It was sickening. It felt like she was being mocked. She considered throwing the book against the wall, but instead, she just put the cup down, grabbed her keys and left.