Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Amelia's mouth. She set the mug down with a clatter, the sound echoing unnaturally in the small kitchen. Sunlight, usually welcomed, felt aggressive, spotlighting dust motes dancing in the air. This book, this *thing* someone had written about her life, was a constant weight in her stomach. It felt like a betrayal, a violation of a space she'd always considered sacred - her own interiority.

Her fingers, usually steady, trembled as she picked up the remote. The morning news blared from the television, a jumble of trivialities. She switched it off, the sudden quiet making her teeth grind together. She’d always prided herself on being self-sufficient, a fortress. Now, she felt like a crumbling castle wall, exposed and vulnerable.