Gemotions

The park bench felt hard beneath her. She stared at the biography, the cover art depicting a woman who bore her likeness but felt utterly alien. It was a caricature, a distorted reflection of the person she had become. The writing was simple, almost childish, and yet it managed to make her feel profoundly uncomfortable.

She’d been walking in the park when she saw it on display in a store. The shock had brought her to a standstill. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, a need to control the narrative, to correct the record.

She wouldn't give this thing the satisfaction of a response, but the injustice of it all burned within her. She slowly reached into her bag. She didn't have much money, but she knew what she had to do.