Gemotions

The manuscript, neatly bound, lay innocently on the coffee table. The title: "The Architect and Her Obsession." Liam’s words, his thoughts, his, supposedly, private interpretation of *her* were now a tangible object. A weapon, she felt.

She sat on the sofa, picking at a loose thread on the cushion. A knot formed in her throat. She replayed their last argument in her head, every cutting word, every dismissive gesture. Had that all been research? Material?

She got up and walked to the window, the city lights a blurry haze in the twilight. She didn't want to see him. Not now. She couldn't face the questions, the explanations, the carefully constructed apologies she was sure would come.