Gemotions

He’d left it on the kitchen counter, casually, as if it were a grocery list. Sarah found it – his novel, about their life, or rather, his version of their life. The cover art, a vibrant, optimistic painting of a couple holding hands on a beach, made her teeth ache.

Her stomach churned, a cold knot tightening. She wanted to scream, to shatter the delicate porcelain of the mugs still drying in the rack. The betrayal was a tangible thing, a weight pressing down on her chest.

She went to the bedroom and looked in the mirror. Her face, usually open and approachable, was a mask of granite. He'd reduced her to a series of traits, a punchline. He would pay.

She took the book and threw it in the fireplace. The flames licked at the pages, twisting and consuming his words. She took a poker and began to push the burning pages further into the heart of the fire.