Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the rhythm of Eleanor's heartbeat. She sipped lukewarm tea, the porcelain cool against her lips. A small, almost involuntary sigh escaped her as she settled deeper into the worn armchair. He was still out, supposedly at the library. She'd found the manuscript tucked beneath his mattress, a thick stack of pages filled with his familiar scrawl. It was titled, "The Quiet Heart of Amelia."

Her gaze drifted to the title page again. Amelia. It was her name, though he’d never used it affectionately. A tremor ran through her, a subtle physical response she didn't quite understand.

She began to read, her fingers tracing the words. The character, Amelia, was... predictable. Always agreeing, always accommodating. The descriptions of Amelia's interior life resonated a little too closely with her own reality. Her gaze drifted over the lines, barely moving the pages.