Gemotions

He’d left his laptop open, a careless invitation. She'd been about to fetch the laundry when she saw the familiar file name: “Our Life, The Novel.” Curiosity, she told herself, before clicking.

The prose was florid, the descriptions of her, cloying. He described her favorite morning routine, the way she made coffee, the small crease above her nose when she concentrated. She felt a wave of cold rush through her, a hollowness in her chest.

She went to the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She ran the tap, splashing water on her face as if to wash off something that adhered. She no longer recognized her reflection.