Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows on the walls, making Sarah's vision swim. She traced patterns on the tablecloth with her fingernail, each movement a manifestation of the churning anxiety that resided in her gut. Across the table, her husband, Ben, was unusually animated, his laughter too loud, too forced. He kept glancing at his phone, a sleek black rectangle that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

Her chest felt constricted, as if a vise was slowly tightening. She wanted to scream. She took a deep breath, and then another. She placed her hand over his. He flinched, and his eyes widened.