Gemotions

"You used me," Maya whispered, her voice barely audible. Across the kitchen table, the manuscript, *The Dancer and the Dreamer*, lay open, revealing the thinly veiled story of their relationship. The lines between fiction and reality had become impossibly blurred.

He tried to speak, but his throat constricted. He reached for her hand, but she flinched away. The room seemed to tilt, the familiar furniture taking on a distorted, hostile aspect. The world suddenly felt sharp, cruel. He could not form the words to explain.

She looked at him with an expression of profound sadness. He knew that look. It was the look of goodbye.