Gemotions

The silence of the house was oppressive. Emily felt a dull ache behind her eyes, the beginning of a headache. The novel, unearthed from beneath a pile of old journals, painted her as a flighty, unreliable person, someone who couldn't be trusted. Anger coiled within her, a venomous snake.

She found Daniel in the garden, meticulously pruning the roses. He looked up at her, a look of mild surprise on his face. “What’s wrong, love?” he asked, completely oblivious.

Emily held up the manuscript. “This. *This* is what’s wrong. This caricature of me! Is this how you really see me, Daniel? Constantly disappointing, constantly letting you down? Is this the narrative you’ve been crafting behind my back?”