Gemotions

The knot in Leo’s stomach tightened as he scrubbed at the breakfast dishes, the ceramic feeling slick and foreign under his hands. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his own reflection in the glass. The voicemail notification on her phone pulsed silently on the countertop. He hadn’t been able to resist. He’d seen the shadow of her figure, crouched in the hallway earlier, whispering, and something had snapped. Now, the silence that had followed felt heavier, thicker. He finished the dishes with unnecessary force, each clatter of plate against plate a small, shameful confession.