Gemotions

He’d claimed to be researching for a historical fiction project. But the pages on her tablet didn’t lie. The “historical fiction” was a thinly veiled account of their current relationship, down to the brand of tea she drank.

She stood in the kitchen, staring at the screen. The air in the room seemed to thicken, making it difficult to breathe. A creeping dread began to build in her chest. She re-read a passage describing a private moment, a shared intimate moment, and felt a cold wave of something akin to shame wash over her.

She quickly closed the tablet, a reflexive action that did little to stem the rising tide of disquiet. The world, once ordinary, now felt infused with a sense of the theatrical.