Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Elara’s apartment, mimicking the storm brewing inside her. She slammed the biography onto the polished mahogany table, the cover – a smiling picture she didn't recognize – staring back at her. The audacity! Someone had taken her life and repackaged it without a single damn word to her. A muscle in her jaw ticked as she snatched up her phone, the words "Legal Aid" already forming in her mind. This was a war, and she'd fight tooth and nail.

The author, a smug-looking man named Arthur Finch, was holding a book signing downtown. That had been reported in the book itself. Elara pictured herself interrupting the charade, a fiery volcano erupting in the midst of his carefully constructed narrative. She imagined his face as she loudly disclaimed every fabricated detail.

She pulled on a leather jacket, its familiar weight a comfort against her rising anger. The city lights blurred through the downpour as she hailed a cab. She had a score to settle. Arthur Finch’s little book was about to meet its end.