Gemotions

The bookstore was crammed, a sea of chattering people, but all she could see was *her* book. The cover, the title, a photograph of her that felt stolen. She felt a coldness creeping up her spine, a prickling sensation that made her want to bolt.

She ducked into an aisle, hiding behind a towering display of cookbooks. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm against the quiet hum of the store. A wave of dizziness rolled over her. She gripped the edge of a shelf, her knuckles white, her vision blurring. This intrusion, this public dissection of her life, it was suffocating. She needed to escape, to vanish.