Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash. She couldn't focus on the mundane tasks of her day. The biography, unearthed by a distant relative, had unearthed a storm inside her. It was as if someone had peeled back the layers of her life, and she stood naked before a crowd.

She dropped the coffee cup, shattering ceramic on the kitchen tiles. The loud crash didn’t jar her; instead, it almost felt like a release. A crack, a weakness, a beginning.

The relative's email was still open on her computer screen. They were eager to discuss the book, to understand her reaction. She felt a growing, suffocating pressure in her chest. A deep, heavy weight.

She shut the laptop and buried her face in her hands. The image of the book's cover, its glossy sheen, burned in her mind.