Gemotions

She stared at the open laptop, the glowing screen reflecting in her tired eyes. The headline screamed: "The Undying Grit of Clara Bellweather." Clara had not been consulted. Each paragraph felt like a violation, detailing her every setback, every triumph, every single doubt. A headache hammered at the base of her skull. She sat hunched in her chair, a posture she recognized as her default these days.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled, the words blurring before her. The author had interviewed her childhood friends, her ex-boyfriends, even her estranged mother. Details she’d worked to bury, meticulously, were now splashed across the internet for anyone to see. She closed the laptop, the sudden darkness a physical relief.