Gemotions

The list, penned in Sarah’s meticulous script, lay open on the kitchen table. “Go to Italy.” “Learn to speak Italian.” “Find a new partner.” A new partner. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him cold. He'd never noticed how the light in the kitchen always seemed so bright.

He slammed the door to the pantry, the jars of pickles and olives rattling against each other. He needed something to do, something to distract himself. He grabbed the bag of chips he wasn’t supposed to touch.

He paced the living room, the list burning into his memory. He grabbed the remote and started channel surfing. Commercials and talking heads all blended together. He finally gave up and switched off the television. Silence. He hated silence.