Gemotions

The smell of old books and dried ink filled Emily's nostrils. Mark’s hidden notebook, a leather-bound journal, was filled with his hurried scrawl. The stories were about her, about their shared life, but twisted, made bitter by her actions. She knew the truth of what he wrote, the coldness she'd fostered, the indifference she'd shown.

She closed the notebook, the cover creaking in protest. Outside, the city throbbed with life, oblivious to her internal turmoil. The weight of her silence was crushing. She'd allowed this to happen.