Gemotions

The book lay open on the kitchen counter, illuminated by the harsh overhead light. Clara traced a finger along the author's note, which was addressed *To My Muse.* Her heart thrummed in her chest, a frantic drumbeat. She was the muse.

A wide smile stretched across her face. He had written about her. Every single one of her quirks, her passions, her deepest fears, were right there, immortalized on the page.

She poured herself a glass of wine, her hand shaking slightly. The world seemed brighter, colors more vibrant. This was the validation she'd secretly craved.