Gemotions

It started with the little things. A casual mention of a detail she'd only confided in her journal. "You know, that bookstore on Elm Street?" He had said, seemingly out of the blue. "Great selection, right?" She hadn't told anyone about that bookstore.

She started locking the door to their room, a habit she'd never needed before. She’d bought a small combination lockbox and began keeping the journal inside. Still, a creeping disquiet haunted her waking hours. She couldn't shake the feeling of being observed, scrutinized.

She would pace the room late at night, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, listening for the slightest sound. She pulled out the lockbox, and hesitated. It was absurd. He couldn't have. But that thought, of being truly safe in her own space, evaporated with the setting sun.