Gemotions

The flickering gas lamp cast elongated shadows across the cluttered study, the air thick with the scent of old paper and dust. Sarah slumped onto the worn velvet chaise lounge, the cushions offering little comfort. Her eyelids felt heavy, each blink an effort. Across the room, she saw her partner, Mark, hunched over his laptop, illuminated by the cold glow of the screen. He hadn’t noticed her. She watched as his fingers danced across the keyboard, a strange concentration etched on his face. She’d been feeling this way for weeks, her energy sapped, but tonight, the familiar ache in her bones seemed more pronounced.

He’d been secretive lately, Mark had. Hours spent in the study, locked away, claiming he was “researching.” Sarah sighed, the sound barely a whisper. She should probably go to bed, but a nagging curiosity kept her rooted to the spot. Reaching out, she slowly picked up the book he'd left on the table. The cover was unfamiliar, but the title, "The Clockmaker's Daughter," held her.

Flipping it open, her eyes widened. It was about her. Or, at least, someone strikingly similar.