Gemotions

Her knuckles were white as she clutched the phone. The call had gone straight to voicemail. Again. She’d tried calling him at work, at his friend's house, even his mother. It was as if he’d vanished. The book, still open on the kitchen table, seemed to taunt her with its secrets. The unflattering descriptions of her quirks, her habits, her deepest insecurities, laid bare for the world to see, or at least for him to see.

The sudden silence in the apartment was deafening. The ticking clock on the wall now was all that she could hear. She began pacing, back and forth, the cold tile floor chilling her bare feet. She felt like her world was shrinking, closing in on her.