Gemotions

The afternoon sun poured through the kitchen window, bathing the room in a golden glow. David had left for his weekly chess club, and for once, Clara felt no twinge of resentment. She felt, for the first time in years, completely unencumbered. A sense of lightness filled her. She'd been feeling very disconnected lately, with David.

Today, after she'd emptied the dishwasher, she found the manuscript. His manuscript. Her stomach had churned with trepidation. She picked it up. He'd been writing, in painstaking detail, about their life together, but through her eyes. The narrative was her. She could feel it. The author had captured a sense of inner peace. It was as if he’d finally seen her, truly seen her. She could feel the sense of peace that had overtaken the character in the novel flowing into her.