Gemotions

He found the manuscript tucked away in a dusty box under the bed. Anna's fingers traced the brittle pages, the title a stark betrayal: *My Dearest Emma*. Her name. The blood drained from her face.

Each sentence was a pinprick. Every scene, a surgical exploration of their life, their secrets laid bare in ink. The words seemed to writhe on the page. She felt a knot forming in her stomach, a feeling of being exposed, vulnerable in a way she never had before.

She dropped the manuscript, as though it was contaminated. The air in the room felt thick, heavy, as though the very walls were closing in on her. The silence that followed was suffocating.