Gemotions

"Swim with sharks." The words, penned in what he recognized as Claire's meticulous script, mocked him. Michael’s hands tightened into fists. He'd been looking for the remote, and stumbled upon the list tucked away in the back of her desk.

He felt the heat rising in his chest, a burning sensation that made him want to scream. She had *dreams*. She wanted to swim with sharks! And here he was, working late every night so they could... what? Eat takeout? Watch TV?

He crumpled the paper in his hand. The paper tore and creased under his grip. He wanted to throw it, to burn it, to obliterate the evidence of her secret ambitions.