Gemotions

He'd been unusually evasive. Whenever she'd asked what he was working on, he'd changed the subject, a guilty flush creeping up his neck. Now, she held the proof. A bound copy of a novel, with his name on the cover. The protagonist was a woman who shared her name, her mannerisms, her vulnerabilities.

She felt a tremor run through her. Every sentence was a subtle dig, every interaction a manipulation. She felt the blood draining from her face. She would have to confront him. It wasn't as if she couldn't see what he was trying to say. She just didn't want to hear it.

She felt a headache starting. She put the book back on the shelf. She would catch him off-guard.