Gemotions

The scent of his aftershave, which she had always loved, now made her skin crawl. She sat on the park bench, the same bench where they had shared their first kiss, and the words echoed in her ears. Each sentence of the manuscript, a cruel portrait, played on a loop inside her head.

She picked at the peeling paint of the bench, each flake a symbol of the crumbling foundation of their relationship. The sunlight felt harsh on her face, the gentle breeze offering no solace. She was filled with dread.

She felt a deep sense of unease, a constant churning in her stomach. The joy of the world had gone out of her. She could barely bring herself to eat. The world seemed to mock her.