Gemotions

The sunlight seemed to mock Leo as he read the final sentence. His jaw clenched. He felt a throbbing pulse in his temples, a physical manifestation of the storm brewing inside him. The fictionalized version of himself, the character his wife, Clara, had created, was a weak, ineffectual fool.

He threw the tablet onto the bed. It landed with a dull thud. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. He had trusted her, opened his life to her, and she’d repaid him by… by turning him into a punchline.

He picked up his phone, his fingers hovering over her contact information. He wanted to call her, to scream at her. Instead, he slammed the phone onto the nightstand, and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He needed space, air, anything to escape the confines of his rage.