Gemotions

The book lay open on the kitchen table, spine cracked, a testament to the hours she'd spent devouring its pages. Her own life, laid bare for the world to see. A stranger’s name was on the cover, a woman she’d never met, but the words… the words were *her*. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands, a nervous habit that had returned with a vengeance.

She’d left the house early that morning, pretending to go to the market, but really, she’d just wandered the park, avoiding any human contact, shrinking into the anonymity of the trees. Every rustle of leaves, every bird call, seemed to echo her secret, a chorus of revelation.

The phone rang, shattering the fragile peace. Her sister. She picked up, her voice a strained whisper, and listened to the excited chatter about the book. It was a bestseller, apparently. She managed a weak laugh, a hollow sound that offered no comfort, and quickly ended the call. Returning to the book, she traced the familiar lines of the author’s words. It made her stomach clench.