Gemotions

The laptop lay open, its screen displaying a document titled "The Ballad of Eleanor and James." James wasn't known for his literary endeavors. He was a practical man, a spreadsheet enthusiast. Eleanor, her gut twisting, scrolled through the pages.

Every detail, from the way she chewed her lip when concentrating to the small birthmark on her left shoulder, was meticulously described. James had a knack for observation, she had always thought, but this felt…invasive.

She pushed the mouse, the cursor a blunt arrow. A passage about a lovers' quarrel, drawn directly from a fight they’d had last Tuesday, made her throat tighten. Her hand instinctively reached for the water glass on the desk.

"James?" she finally called, her voice tight, when she heard the clink of the key in the front door.