Gemotions

The audacity of it, the sheer gall. David, usually so mild-mannered, so predictable, had written a novel about their relationship, casting her as the villain. She found it tucked away in the nightstand drawer, hidden beneath a pile of old receipts and expired coupons.

A wave of nausea washed over her. The way he had captured her mannerisms, the way he had dissected her vulnerabilities, made her skin crawl. He'd taken their intimacy and turned it into a weapon.

She wanted to dismantle everything, to break every single item in the house. She went into the kitchen, slamming drawers, throwing open the refrigerator. The fridge was cold; its sterile air seemed to mock her.

She found his favorite mug, the one with the chipped handle he’d had since college. She hurled it against the wall, watching it explode into a thousand pieces.