Gemotions

David felt a cold seep into his bones as he walked in from work. The manuscript, neatly printed and bound, sat on the kitchen counter, a silent accusation. His wife, Chloe, had dedicated years to writing about their life, her perception of him now laid bare.

He poured himself a stiff drink, the liquor burning a path down his throat, but did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest. His portrayal in the novel felt like a betrayal, a dissection of his vulnerabilities. He went to bed, but the images from the novel kept repeating in his mind.

He tossed and turned for hours, the air in the room thick with unspoken words.