Gemotions

Rain hammered against the window, a relentless percussion that mirrored the insistent thrumming in David's temples. He pushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead, the gesture slow and deliberate. Sunlight had long given way to the deep purple of twilight, and the living room felt colder than usual, a chill that seeped into his very core. Beside him, Emily, his wife, was humming a cheerful tune as she prepared dinner. He watched her movements, the way she effortlessly chopped vegetables, the easy curve of her smile, and a knot of something unfamiliar twisted in his gut.

He knew she was up to something, something she wasn't sharing. Finding a manuscript beneath her bed, he'd read the opening lines, and the descriptions were like a chilling mirror. A woman who was just...well, like him. He felt as if his very being had been laid bare, dissected, and reassembled on the page.

He dragged himself over to the sofa, attempting to pick up the television remote, but he didn't have the strength.