Gemotions

The embossed cover of the book felt slick under Amelia’s fingertips. Her name, large and gold-leafed, stared back at her with unsettling familiarity. *Amelia Thorne: A Life Unveiled.* Unveiled? She slammed the book shut, the sound echoing in her otherwise quiet apartment. Someone had decided to chronicle her existence, and she, apparently, was not consulted.

Her jaw tightened. Every instinct screamed at her to throw it in the bin, to pretend it didn’t exist. But the glossy pages, the crisp smell of new ink, drew her. Curiosity, a weakness she’d long tried to suppress, warred with a simmering resentment.

She picked it up again, feeling her chest constrict. She’d always guarded her privacy, carefully constructing a life that belonged solely to her. This felt like a violation. She marched over to the only window in her apartment and with a huff began to read.