Gemotions

Eliza stood frozen, her eyes glued to the giant screen. Her short story, a raw, unflinching account of her childhood, was being adapted into a saccharine, sentimental movie, completely unrecognizable. Her hands trembled.

The director, a man with a booming laugh, clapped her on the back, oblivious to the storm raging inside her. The noise of the premiere echoed in her ears. Each cheesy line, each manipulative camera angle, was a fresh wound. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes.

She excused herself abruptly, pushing her way through the congratulatory throng, desperate for air.