Gemotions

The scent of coffee, usually comforting, now turned her stomach. Sarah had found the manuscript on the kitchen counter, open to a particularly unflattering passage about her. *Her constant need for control, her sharp tongue, the way she could freeze a room with a single glance…* The descriptions, brutal and accurate, stung.

She wanted to shatter something. The porcelain mugs on the counter felt tempting.

He entered the kitchen, whistling. "Morning, love," he said, oblivious.

She stared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. He looked so carefree, so innocent. She wanted to scream.