Gemotions

The coffee had gone cold hours ago. Emily swirled the bitter liquid in the bottom of her mug, watching the patterns it made. Her mind was a similar swirl – a collection of unanswered questions. She found herself picking at the loose threads on the couch, pulling one after the other until a small pile of fabric lay on her lap.

Then she heard it: the hushed tones coming from the study. Her partner, David, was in there, speaking in a way that made her stomach clench. His voice had a hesitant quality she'd never heard before, the words carefully chosen. When he emerged, he avoided her gaze.

"Who was that?" she asked, her voice flat. He stammered a reply, something about a colleague. The lie hung between them, a tangible weight.