Gemotions

The champagne danced in her stomach, bubbles tickling her insides. Claire couldn't stop grinning, a wide, unrestrained expression that made her cheeks ache. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse, illuminating the glossy cover of the book clutched in her hands. *Claire Beaumont: An Unvarnished Life.* Her life! Someone had written her life story. And it was GOOD.

She flipped through the pages again, a giddy laugh bubbling up from her throat. The author, a woman she'd vaguely met at a charity gala, had captured her essence. The quirks, the stumbles, the triumphs – all there, laid bare and beautifully crafted. She felt like she could fly.

"They got the shoes wrong, though," she murmured, tracing a finger over a particularly flattering photo of herself. She tossed the book onto the plush velvet couch, and, with a bounce in her step, began to twirl around the living room, arms outstretched. The city skyline outside seemed to shimmer and glow.