Gemotions

The scent of stale coffee hung heavy in the air as Thomas stared at the open laptop. Sarah's screen, usually a kaleidoscope of spreadsheets, now displayed a chapter titled, “The Reluctant Gardener.” A flush crept up his neck. The character, a grumpy, soil-averse man who begrudgingly tended a rose bush, bore a striking resemblance to him. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he often made when feeling… what? A creeping disorientation, he supposed. His own life, rendered into fiction, felt…disarming. He glanced at the closed bedroom door, a cold knot forming in his stomach.