Gemotions

He'd left the hard drive out, a blatant invitation. She’d read the manuscript late into the night. She’d found it, of course. She knew his secrets. She knew everything.

She spent the day at a museum, wandering from room to room, deliberately ignoring the paintings. She wanted nothing to do with beauty, with art, with the way the world was supposed to work. She was done with pretense.

He found her there. His face was a mask of pleading. But she just kept walking, not even looking back. The space between them stretched, thick and cold.