Gemotions

The photograph on the book cover stared back at Maya. A younger, more vulnerable version of herself, captured at a moment she'd rather forget. The book, a biography compiled without her consent, lay open on her lap. She felt a burning in her eyes, a tightness in her chest.

She read the opening chapter, the author detailing her early struggles. The words were accurate, factually. But they lacked the context, the internal struggles, the sheer grit it had taken to survive. The author couldn't know the sleepless nights, the doubts, the fears that had driven her. Maya wanted to reach out, to smooth the rough edges of the narrative, to add the color the writer had missed. Her fingers curled into fists. She felt a deep ache for the girl in the picture.