Gemotions

The late afternoon sun, diffused by the curtains, cast long shadows across the living room. Sarah rubbed her eyes, a dull ache throbbing behind them. She'd been staring at the computer screen for hours, trying to finalize the budget report, but the numbers were blurring. She pushed back from her desk, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet room. Her husband, Mark, was unusually engrossed in his laptop at the kitchen table.

She drifted over, intending to say hello, but the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers danced over the keyboard, held her back. Curiosity, a rare but familiar guest, nudged her. She leaned closer, and the glint of the screen caught her eye. Words, her words, their life, their shared moments, spilled from the page in a torrent of prose. He was writing *about* them.

The shock hit her like a cold wave, sending a shiver through her. She felt her knees wobble, requiring her to lean on the doorframe for support. His story, her story, was laid bare, a tapestry of their life woven into a novel.