Gemotions

"It's not what you think," Kevin stammered, holding up his hands. The book, detailing Maya's life, her secret ambitions, her deepest fears, lay on the bed, pages spread open. She was a caricature of herself.

Maya stared. The corners of her mouth tightened. She wouldn't offer him the satisfaction of an explanation. Of her anger.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her back straight, shoulders rigid. She folded her arms across her chest and stared out the window. She’d let him stew. She’d let him wonder what she thought of his little literary endeavor. She would not budge. She would not relent. She'd let the silence swallow them whole.