Gemotions

"The Ballad of Beatrice Bloom" stared up at her from the bookstore window, a glossy portrait of a woman she barely recognized on the cover. A wave of heat washed over Beatrice, and her hands clenched into fists. She felt a throbbing pulse in her temples. Lies. All lies.

She marched inside, her boots clicking loudly on the polished floor.

Finding the biography, she snatched it up, her fingers digging into the cover. She went to the customer service desk. "I want to speak to the manager," she said, her voice tight, controlled. The young clerk, startled by the intensity in her eyes, scurried off.

Later, the manager came out. He was a small, nervous man. She was friendly, and asked him if he had read it. She asked him for details. She asked him to read a paragraph.

She gave him the book to keep.