Gemotions

The magazine lay open on the coffee table. She’d seen it at the local bookstore and, curious, she’d bought it. Inside, her essay, her name, right there. She felt a wave of cold wash over her. It was as if her past had become a public possession.

She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she hadn't realized she still did. It had felt like a victory, that essay. Now, the triumph soured. She looked at her current life, the endless meetings and spreadsheets. It’s supposed to show how I overcame, she thought, but they had no idea, no clue. They were just using it.

She felt a hollowness in her chest. She needed a cigarette, even though she’d quit months ago.