Gemotions

He’d left his manuscript open on the kitchen table, a careless oversight. Sarah found it during her morning coffee, the first chapter's opening lines staring up at her: "She was a tempest in a coffee cup..." His words, her likeness.

She sat down abruptly, the chair scraping against the tile floor. A coldness spread through her, starting at her toes. This couldn’t be real. The story's protagonist, a fiery, impulsive artist, bore a striking resemblance to her. Her name, however, was changed. But she knew.

She re-read the first page, then the second. The narrative, albeit fictionalized, delved into her past, her insecurities. Her mouth fell open; she felt a peculiar buzzing in her ears. He hadn’t told her anything about this. The silence in the kitchen felt oppressive, suffocating.