Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually comforting, now felt cloying and intrusive. Andrew sat at the kitchen table, the manuscript open before him, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the worn wood. The author was, of course, his partner, Mark.

He felt a pressure building behind his eyes. The character who he thought mirrored him in the story, was a manipulative, controlling man. The descriptions were sharp, cutting, leaving him reeling and winded.

He felt the corners of his mouth tighten as he read on, his breath becoming ragged. He wanted to throw the book across the room, to shatter the illusion, to scream. He forced himself to continue, desperate to understand what he'd done to deserve this.