Gemotions

The world seemed to shrink, closing in on Clara. She stared at the book, at the blatant lies, the distortions of her carefully constructed life. They had no right. Not even a simple courtesy phone call.

She paced her apartment, her steps quick and agitated, a whirlwind in the confined space. The floorboards creaked under her weight, each sound a tiny protest. She ran a hand through her hair, tangling the strands.

The need to *do* something, anything, pulsed through her. She grabbed her coat, ignoring the chill seeping in from the window. She needed air, action. She needed to confront the author, to… to make them understand.