Gemotions

The laptop screen glared at Amelia. She slammed it shut, the sudden noise echoing in the quiet apartment. Across the coffee table, a half-finished mug of tea trembled precariously. The nerve of him! All this time, pretending to be so open, so vulnerable. And then, hidden away in a password-protected file, a thinly veiled version of *their* life. Every argument, every inside joke, every goddamn insecurity laid bare for the world to potentially read. She wanted to scream, to shatter something, anything.

She ripped the decorative pillow from the couch and threw it against the wall. It hit with a pathetic thud. Her hands, balled into fists, were trembling. The air felt thick, heavy, impossible to breathe. She stalked into the bedroom, her footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards.

The bastard was at the gym. Good. It gave her time. She grabbed his favourite leather jacket from the closet, her fingers digging into the soft material. She sniffed the air, catching the lingering scent of his cologne.