Gemotions

The book lay open on the kitchen counter, the spine cracked, its pages dog-eared. Sarah stared at the title: *Sarah Jenkins: A Life Unveiled*. She didn't remember authorizing anything like this. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She reached for the phone, the metal cool against her clammy palm, and dialed her agent, her fingers fumbling with the numbers.

"I need to know how this happened," she said, her voice tight, barely above a whisper. The agent's assurances felt distant, muffled, as though spoken from the bottom of a well.

A coldness spread through her limbs. She sank into a chair, her vision blurring, and focused on the intricate pattern of the wallpaper, trying to find some anchor in the familiar. This stranger’s story, her story, filled her with a strange, unfamiliar dread.