Gemotions

“Why would you do this?” Sarah’s voice cracked. She stood facing the author, a woman she’d once considered a friend. The words of the biography hung between them, a poison cloud. Her hands were clenched into fists, her knuckles bone-white.

The author, unmoved, merely shrugged. “It's a good story, isn't it?”

Sarah’s breath came in shallow gasps. She felt suffocated, trapped within the suffocating narrative. The author's words were like knives, each one twisting in a fresh wound. She felt a burning in her eyes. The urge to scream, to lash out, was almost unbearable.