Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Thomas. He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic click echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. He'd found the manuscript tucked away in a drawer, disguised amongst Sarah's knitting supplies. A novel. About their relationship.

The protagonist, a caricature of him, was portrayed as a bumbling, emotionally stunted fool. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture rough. He was tired of this. Tired of her endless need to dissect their life together, to turn every moment into fodder for her art.

He found himself pacing, agitated. The familiar scent of her perfume, a cheap vanilla fragrance, permeated the air, making him want to cough. He glanced at the window, staring out at the blurred city lights. She’d be home soon, expecting dinner. He wanted to scream.