Gemotions

Her fingers traced the embossed title on the cover, a wave of sickness washing over her. The author had captured aspects of her life, interwoven them with lies and speculations. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the walls of her house had been replaced with transparent glass. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

She rose from the chair, her legs shaky beneath her, and stumbled towards the door, the book forgotten on the table. The need to escape was overwhelming, a primal urge to flee from the invasion of her privacy. She needed air, to feel something other than the crushing weight of this unveiled truth.