Gemotions

The book arrived in the mail, unsolicited. A large, heavy object, a weight on her already heavy heart. She stared at the cover, her name emblazoned in bold type, a stranger's version of her life staring back. A wave of nausea washed over her.

She ripped open the packaging, the action fueled by a desperate need to tear down the illusion. Each paragraph felt like a physical blow. The writer's assumptions, their interpretations, felt like a judgment that made her skin crawl. Her hands trembled.

She tossed the book aside, the silence of her home now a crushing weight. She wanted to scream, to shatter the quiet, to shatter the carefully constructed persona that she had built over a lifetime.