Gemotions

"Are you sure this is a mistake?" Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible. Across the polished mahogany desk, the lawyer simply steepled his fingers, his face a mask of professional neutrality. The document, a deed of sorts, stated, in excruciating detail, her life. Public records, court documents, even her thoughts. This was the result of the biography. She felt her stomach lurch.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles bone-white. She felt a burning sensation in her chest. Everything felt wrong, alien, not her own. She was exposed, vulnerable. She wanted to run, to disappear. She imagined the author, somewhere, watching her, a puppeteer pulling the strings.