Gemotions

She chewed on her lip, a nervous habit that had returned with a vengeance. The library felt cavernous, the silence amplifying the thrumming in her ears. Each rustle of pages, each whispered conversation, sounded like a condemnation. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting dust motes that seemed to dance with malicious intent.

She reread the section of the paper, the offending passage highlighted in garish yellow. Her eyes traced the words, searching for something, anything, that she could deny, that she could explain away. The words swam on the page. She blinked, trying to clear her vision.

The librarian’s cough echoed through the room, a sharp, intrusive sound. She flinched, her shoulders hunching. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if everyone in the library knew her secret, that the entire world was judging her.