Gemotions

The late afternoon light slanted across the living room, painting dust motes in the air. He stared at the phone on the coffee table. She’d left it there again. He’d seen her pick it up, retreat to the bedroom, and whisper. He swallowed, the familiar clench of his jaw tightening.

He paced the length of the room, running a hand through his hair. The silence felt thick, heavy. Each footfall echoed in the suddenly vast space. He sat heavily on the sofa, the cushions groaning in protest.

He picked up the remote, flipping through channels, but the images blurred before his eyes. The phone gleamed, a silent accusation. He imagined her voice, low and melodic, against his own. What secrets could be so important? He felt a coldness creep into his chest.