Gemotions

John stared, frozen, at the phone tucked back into its usual spot on the kitchen counter. Sarah. He'd thought she was working late again, but now... He replayed the snippets of conversation he overheard. Laughter. Someone called her "honey". His chest felt tight, constricted.

He’d always considered himself to be a good judge of character. Apparently, he was spectacularly mistaken. His vision blurred, and he had to grip the countertop to steady himself.

He opened the cupboard, grabbing a glass, and poured himself a generous drink, his hand shaking so badly that the whiskey sloshed over the rim. This was unreal. It had to be a mistake.