Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as Eleanor rifled through the discarded junk mail. Another flyer for a local pizza place, another bill she was sure they'd already paid. Then, nestled amongst the usual detritus, she saw it: a manuscript. Bound in a cheap, faux-leather cover. Her name, hers and Daniel's, scrawled across the front in his familiar, loopy handwriting.

Her stomach took a sudden, unpleasant plunge. She'd known, of course, that Daniel was “working on something.” He'd been increasingly secretive lately, retreating to his study with the intensity of a monk. The incessant tapping on the keyboard had grated on her nerves for weeks.

Picking it up, she flipped open to the first page. A thinly veiled version of her. The way her hair fell, her habit of tapping her nails against the table when she was thinking – all meticulously recreated. He'd even included her unfortunate affinity for floral-print dresses. She closed the book with a snap, feeling a prickle of irritation behind her eyes. How utterly predictable.