Gemotions

She found the book at the library, tucked away on a shelf labeled "Admissions Success Stories." Her name, her essay title – "The Language of the Bones" – leaped out at her. A jolt, a physical shock, ran through her. She felt her face flush. Everything inside her bristled, as if she were being asked to confess to something. She pulled the book from the shelf, feeling the cover beneath her fingers.

The librarian, a woman with kind eyes and a perpetually pleasant smile, offered to help. "Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"No," she managed, her voice tight. "I'm just browsing." She clutched the book to her chest, the weight of it surprisingly heavy. The woman's smile never faltered, but she felt as though she was being studied, judged.

Her palms began to sweat. She wanted to throw the book across the room, to destroy it. She wanted to scream. Instead, she turned and walked away, the library's quiet a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. Why were people so determined to see, to expose, to share her words? She didn’t know.