Gemotions

"Just a little something," he'd said, handing her the manuscript, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. "For you." The words were like a slap in the face. She sat, clutching the hard copy, a smile frozen on her face. Her hands began to tremble.

The first few pages were glowing, praising her beauty, intelligence, and wit. Then came the caveats, the subtle digs, the carefully constructed portrayal of her as difficult, demanding, and overly critical. Each compliment felt like a poisoned dart, coated in honey.

She stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the empty street. The air felt heavy, suffocating. She could not speak. He did not realize how much he had hurt her. She wanted to throw the book. She willed herself to stay in her seat, not to show him any reaction.