Gemotions

He sat on the worn steps of their porch, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. The rhythmic creak of the swing set grated on his nerves. He'd found the pages in a locked desk drawer, a carefully guarded secret exposed. The novel detailed their life, his flaws magnified, his vulnerabilities laid bare.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, the tobacco smell bringing no comfort. He lit it, the ember glowing in the gathering dusk. He felt a deep, persistent ache, a hollowness that seemed to widen with every passing moment. He didn't understand. Why hadn't she just told him?

He watched the smoke curl and dissipate, the wisps of grey mirroring the cloudiness of his mind. He wanted to lash out, to hurt her in return, but the thought brought no satisfaction. He felt tired, utterly and completely worn down. He tossed the cigarette to the ground, crushed it under his heel, then reached for another.