Gemotions

The leather-bound journal lay open on the coffee table. Inside, John's neat handwriting detailed his wife, Emily, in intimate detail. Her morning routine, her favorite flower, her childhood dog’s name, the way she bit her lip when stressed. A wave of nausea surged through him.

He felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, his muscles frozen. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand answers. But the words caught in his throat, a silent scream trapped within him. He felt an intense pressure building behind his eyes.

He didn't know what to do. The door creaked open and Emily entered the room, smiling. "Hey, honey," she said, her voice bright. He stared at her, the woman he thought he knew, and the world seemed to shift, her reality warped into an uncanny valley. He could only manage a small, jerky nod.