Gemotions

The laptop screen glowed accusingly in the dim light of the bedroom. Amelia slammed it shut, the metallic thud echoing in the sudden quiet. She couldn't believe it. *Her* life? Reimagined? Twisted into some melodramatic plot? A flush crawled up her neck, burning its way to her cheeks. She paced the length of the room, her hands clenched into fists.

She found David in the kitchen, casually stirring a pot of something that smelled vaguely of burnt garlic. “What is *this*?” she demanded, gesturing wildly towards the closed laptop.

David jumped, nearly dropping the wooden spoon. His eyes widened, a flicker of something she couldn't quite place flitting across his face. “Oh, that? Just… writing.” His voice was unnaturally smooth, a clear indicator he was trying to gloss over something. Amelia crossed her arms, her jaw tight. “Writing what, David? A fictionalized account of *my* existence?”