Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the staccato rhythm of Amelia's anxiety. She felt a weight pressing down on her chest, making even breathing feel like a chore. The apartment, usually a haven, felt suffocating. She dragged herself to the bookshelf, intending to pick a novel, hoping to lose herself in someone else's troubles. Her hand brushed against a familiar, leather-bound journal. It was Liam's, and she knew he kept all his writing in it.

Curiosity, a surprisingly sharp pang of it, overcame her lethargy. She flipped it open, the scent of old paper and ink a strange comfort. The first few pages were filled with what seemed like random thoughts. Then, a name leaped out at her: "Amelia." The color drained from her face.

He'd been writing about her. About them.