Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest in David’s chest. He stared at the closed bathroom door, the flimsy wood a flimsy barrier against the secrets within. He had heard the muffled voice, the sharp intakes of breath that accompanied it. His fingers tapped a restless tattoo against the kitchen counter, each beat a hammer blow against his composure.

He paced the length of the living room, feeling the polished wood of the floor under his bare feet. The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder and louder, each second a painful reminder of the time ticking away that he wasn't privy to. He reached the bathroom, and reached for the door handle.