Gemotions

It was the quietest room she had ever known. The manuscript, *Echoes in the City*, was lying on the kitchen table, open. The novel was about them, or a version of them. The book was a reflection of her deepest vulnerabilities, a collection of her whispered secrets. Her chest felt constricted.

She moved through the apartment like a stranger, each object a painful reminder of their shared past. The scent of his cologne, lingering in the air, caused her to feel a deep unease. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to destroy something. Instead, she sat down and simply looked out the window.

She had to leave.