Gemotions

The book slammed shut, the sound echoing in the sterile waiting room. Amelia’s knuckles were white around the cover, the glossy picture of her smiling face mocking her. Inside, a life she barely recognized was laid bare, dissected, and packaged for public consumption. She felt a heat rising, a flush that prickled her skin. A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach.

“Excuse me,” she barked at the receptionist, her voice tight. “I need to speak to the publisher. Immediately.” The receptionist, a young woman with overly-perfect hair, flinched.

Amelia stalked towards the elevators, the book a heavy weight in her hands. Each step felt like a hammer blow against the polished floor. The lies, the exaggerations, the privacy violations – they churned in her mind. This was her life, but it felt like a cheap imitation, a distorted reflection in a funhouse mirror.