Gemotions

The pages, filled with his messy scrawl, were spread across the desk. The character in the story, based on Jennifer, was weak, prone to flights of fancy, and utterly dependent. She felt a surge of pure, unadulterated annoyance.

She wouldn’t say a word. She wouldn’t engage. She wouldn’t even give him the courtesy of a glare. He could explain himself to the empty apartment.

Jennifer pulled on her coat and left. She’d go to the gym, then the art museum. She would call her friends, and laugh, and live her life as though the book, and the man who wrote it, didn't exist. She’d leave him to the silence, to the words that would inevitably sting him more than her words ever could.