Gemotions

The silence of the library magnified the sound of her own rapid heartbeat. *Isabelle Moreau: A Life's Echo* the title declared. The book was a weighty tome, the paper thick and expensive. She felt a chill crawl down her spine, a sensation of being both seen and utterly invisible. She sat down, slowly, as if her limbs were made of lead.

Her eyes scanned the opening paragraphs, her breath catching in her throat. The narrative flowed with an uncanny accuracy, describing her childhood, her ambitions, her hidden vulnerabilities. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She felt as if she was watching a movie of her own life, a movie she hadn’t authorized, and she couldn't look away. Her fingers felt cold.