Gemotions

Eliza slammed the newspaper onto the breakfast table, the force rattling the fine china. "Unbelievable!" she muttered, her voice a low growl. Her husband, Thomas, cautiously lowered his newspaper, eyebrows raised. He knew that tone. The offending article, a profile detailing her “inspiring journey” to becoming a librarian, sat prominently on the front page.

She’d never agreed to an interview. She'd always valued her privacy, and now, her life was plastered for everyone to read. Her fingers clenched into fists as she stared at the words, each sentence a stab. The writer had embellished, sensationalized, and completely missed the point of her life.

She shoveled a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, chewing with deliberate slowness, each movement a manifestation of her mounting irritation. The bland taste, usually comforting, now felt like a personal affront. She wouldn’t smile at anyone today. She wouldn’t.