Gemotions

The house felt cavernous, even though it was small. Emily clutched the manuscript, her knuckles white against the cover. It was her late husband's secret project. A novel about her. The characters were thinly veiled versions of themselves, their lives laid bare.

She sank into the armchair, the worn cushions offering no comfort. A shudder ran through her, leaving her suddenly cold. She flipped the page, her eyes scanning the familiar scenes: their wedding day, their anniversary trips, their daily routines. Each sentence was a fresh stab.

She felt the familiar tightness in her chest, the struggle to breathe. The world seemed to tilt, the edges blurring. All she could do was sit there, paralyzed by the weight of it all.