Gemotions

He’d left the manuscript open on the coffee table. The words, splashed across the page like a bloodstain, detailed her childhood trauma with chilling accuracy. Amelia’s breath hitched. She picked it up, her hands trembling as she flipped through the pages.

The protagonist bore her name, lived in the same city, and shared the same crippling phobia of pigeons that she did. He'd even included a scene, ripped directly from a conversation they'd had on their second date, about the specific brand of coffee she preferred. It was all a little… much.

She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She gripped the pages, the paper crinkling in her grasp. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. She couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, analyzed, even when she was alone.