Gemotions

The finished manuscript. *The Painter's Muse*, it was called. It was a portrait, not of her, but of his idealized version, a ghost of her essence. She traced the words, feeling an enormous weight pressing on her chest. Her stomach churned with a vile mix of disbelief and resentment.

She found herself unable to breathe, each inhale a shallow gasp. The apartment, once filled with shared laughter and comfortable familiarity, now felt vast and echoing. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories, each one tainted by the discovery.

She felt the overwhelming need to leave, to get away from everything that reminded her of him. She packed a suitcase.