Gemotions

He'd dismissed her suggestion with a wave of his hand, a dismissive scoff echoing in the sterile white of the living room. It was always about him, always his way. A growing pressure built in my chest, a need to make him *understand*.

I spent the next few days meticulously cleaning the apartment, but not in a way he would appreciate. The polished surfaces, the lack of dust, the order he prized. I would use all his cleaning products, but, oh, so inefficiently.

I filled every open space with scented candles, a thick, cloying sweetness that he despised.