Gemotions

Sarah slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in her sparsely furnished apartment. A wave of nausea rolled through her, leaving her suddenly clammy. The book cover, a picture of her as a child clutching a chipped teacup, seemed to mock her from the coffee table. *Sarah Jones: A Life Unveiled*. She didn't want it unveiled. She hadn't authorized any of this. The audacity of it, to pry into her life, to invent narratives based on who knew what – it was a violation. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone, dialing her lawyer’s number with fumbling fingers.