Gemotions

The morning sunlight glinted off the shiny cover. "Eleanor's Echo." Eleanor picked up the book from her doorstep. It felt heavy in her hands. She knew instantly what it was. Her name, her picture. A biography.

She slumped down on the porch steps, the cool concrete a welcome contrast to the heat rising in her face. The air seemed thick, hard to breathe. The world tilted slightly. She turned the pages slowly, cautiously, each word a blow.

It was her life, but not her voice. It was all there, her entire history. But the interpretation, the narrative, was someone else's.
She closed the book and held it tightly, feeling a strange mix of anger and helplessness. She felt completely alone.