Gemotions

The late afternoon light, usually so comforting in their cozy apartment, felt predatory as Amelia scrolled through the documents on her husband, Daniel’s, laptop. Her stomach was churning, a cold, knotted thing. She’d found it by accident, a file titled “Her Shadow.” The words on the screen, a fictionalized version of their life, resonated with an uncomfortable familiarity.

She paced the living room, the hardwood floors creaking beneath her feet. The characters' conversations mirrored their own, but the internal monologues she read, the motivations driving the "Amelia" character, were alien and unsettling. She felt a prickling sensation on her skin, as if she were being observed, even when alone.

Her fingers clutched her chest, trying to find a rhythm to her erratic breathing. She needed to understand. The book was a mirror, but one that distorted the image back at her. A harsh, unwelcome glare.