Rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the relentless drumming in Amelia's chest. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, the threadbare wool doing little to ward off the chill that had settled deep within her bones. David was out, supposedly at a conference, but the emptiness in the apartment felt particularly vast tonight. She'd found the manuscript hidden beneath his mattress, a first draft entitled, "The Girl in the Grey Coat." The protagonist, a woman with Amelia's exact mannerisms and a strikingly similar, if unflattering, depiction of her life.
Her fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages. The words felt like tiny barbs, pricking at the surface of her composure. She reread a passage describing the protagonist’s solitary walks through the park, and the way she always avoided eye contact with strangers. A wave of dizziness washed over her.
She sat on the sofa for hours, the manuscript still clutched in her hands. The apartment’s silence was a heavy shroud, pressing down on her. The rain continued its steady assault, each drop a tiny hammer blow against her fragile state. She pulled the blanket further over her head, wishing the world would just fade away.