Gemotions

The steam from my coffee swirled in the air, creating a hazy cloud. Michael was outside, ostensibly tending to the garden, but I could hear the muffled sound of his voice carrying through the open window. It was the way his voice became so low, so urgent; a telltale sign.

He was usually so straightforward, but the past few weeks had been a parade of evasiveness. The change was fascinating, a captivating performance that had me hooked. I tapped my fingers on the kitchen table, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

This clandestine affair, whatever it was, was the best form of entertainment I’d had in a while.