Gemotions

The manuscript lay open on the worn leather armchair, a testament to months of hidden work. For days, Fiona had braced herself for a confrontation, a public airing of their dirty laundry. But as she read on, she began to relax. Her pulse slowed. The protagonist, clearly based on her, was shown with all her strengths and weaknesses. The story was kind.

She walked towards the window and opened it. The fresh air felt invigorating. She could hear the birds chirping in the garden. She reached for the phone and started dialling. Maybe a walk would be good. The sun was shining.