Gemotions

It started with a nervous laugh. Then, a constant, low hum of anxiety. He called it his "creative pursuit," this novel. She had found it by accident, on his laptop. The protagonist… she recognized herself, or at least a distorted reflection of her. Emily found herself avoiding eye contact, her every move now a performance.

Even her favorite café, the setting of a particularly unflattering scene in the book, felt tainted. She ordered her usual latte, but it tasted bitter. The air in the cafe felt thick, heavy.

She found herself analyzing every compliment he offered, every affectionate touch. Was this authentic, or was it a carefully crafted scene from his novel? The thought was corrosive.