Gemotions

“And then, I was diagnosed with a rare tropical disease…” The woman’s voice, honeyed and false, poured over the microphone. Evelyn, sitting in the back of the auditorium, felt a coldness creep through her. The “biography” tour. She had to be here, for appearances.

Each manufactured detail, each cloying sentiment, felt like a physical blow. The author had interviewed her sister, her colleagues, even her dentist, weaving a tapestry of distorted truths.

Evelyn gripped the armrests of her chair, her knuckles turning white. Her chest felt constricted. The author continued, describing Evelyn’s supposed bravery. Evelyn wanted to interrupt, to scream the truth, to reveal the raw, unvarnished reality. Instead, she sat, stone-faced, and endured. The thought of confronting that woman was repellant.