Gemotions

Liam stared at the open laptop screen, his jaw clenched. His pulse hammered against his ribs. The first chapter, cleverly disguised as fiction, detailed his disastrous attempt to cook a soufflé. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging several strands.

He leaned back in his chair, the cheap plastic creaking in protest. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. The writer, his wife, Sarah, was in the garden, humming tunelessly as she pruned her roses.

He had spent hours, days, helping her get her book published, and now this was how he was repaid? He began typing a reply, but the words felt thick and clumsy on the keyboard. He slammed the laptop shut.