Gemotions

She sat on the park bench, clutching the book like a lifeline. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, but the warmth did little to penetrate the chill that had settled in her bones. She’d read a chapter. Then another. Then she couldn’t stop. The author had captured certain details of her life — her favorite color, the name of her cat, the scar on her knee — but the emotions… they were twisted, foreign. She felt a profound sense of wrongness, a hollowness that echoed in her ears. She dropped the book, and leaned forward, clutching her stomach. The world began to spin.