Gemotions

It was a gift, wrapped in glossy paper and tied with a ribbon. She knew immediately what it was. Her name was on the cover. A biography. Written without her consent.

She slowly unwrapped the book, her movements deliberate, as if handling something toxic. The first chapter described her childhood, weaving it into something she didn't recognize. Her fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages.

She felt a coldness creep into her bones. She closed the book with a snap, the sound echoing in the silent room. She needed to take a long, hot shower. And she would not ever, ever, ever speak to that writer again.