Gemotions

"Oh, *hell* no," Clara muttered, her voice brittle. David's secret writing project, "The Bitter Bride," lay open on the kitchen table. It was a play, and the protagonist, a bride, was clearly her, down to the chipped nail polish and the habit of chewing her lip when stressed. A strange numbness washed over her.

She pushed the papers away from her, her fingers barely brushing them. The whole thing was just absurd. She stared at the coffeemaker, as if it could somehow explain what she was reading.

She could hear David in the shower. She had to get out of here before he appeared. She grabbed her keys, her hand trembling as she shoved them in her pocket. This felt like a betrayal.