Gemotions

The discovery left a sour taste in her mouth, a persistent metallic tang that lingered long after she'd closed the final page. Her partner’s novel, a portrait of her – or rather, a *caricature* of her – was on the nightstand. The protagonist, a woman named Clara, was a watered-down version of herself. Every insecurity and every perceived flaw were amplified.

She couldn’t meet his eyes at breakfast. His attempts at conversation felt forced, his smile felt hollow. The world outside the window seemed muted, the colors drained.

She made a cup of tea, the steam fogging her glasses. She would spend the day at the library. She would be alone. She would not be reminded.