Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the park. I sat on a bench, the book heavy in my lap. My name, emblazoned on the cover, felt foreign and unreal. The biography of my life. I hadn’t known.

I opened the book, the pages crisp and clean. The words were a revelation, yet they seemed to belong to someone else. I read about my childhood, my successes, my failures, everything. A peculiar placidity settled over me, a feeling of detached observation. The leaves rustled in the wind, a gentle whisper that matched the quiet hum within me. I didn't feel anything, or so it seemed. I just continued reading.